


Fine Line

by StarryDay13



Series: better than words (but more than a feeling) [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Larry Stylinson Is Real, M/M, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Smut, Songfic, not all tags apply to each chapter, tags specific for the chapter will be in chapter notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28526721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryDay13/pseuds/StarryDay13
Summary: "What is the most loving and caring thing you would ever do for a girl?""I think I would.... write them a song."A bunch of oneshots inspired by Harry's album Fine Line.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: better than words (but more than a feeling) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089677
Comments: 37
Kudos: 88





	1. golden

**Author's Note:**

> (Tags that apply to each oneshot will be at the beginning of each chapter, since they're all different)
> 
> Thanks a lot to [Nina](https://natigail.tumblr.com/) for helping me both with writing and ao3 xD <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up to an afternoon sun shining through the window and Louis cuddled up to his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: established relationship, fluff, morning (afternoon) cuddles

They probably should’ve woken up sooner.

Harry is sure they had some stuff planned for today, but right now, looking at Louis next to him, he couldn’t remember a single one of those.

Louis is… beautiful.

His nose is scrunched up cutely and he’s smiling, just a little bit, over whatever he’s dreaming about. His eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheeks, and Harry is wondering how come the brightness hitting his face hasn’t woken him up yet.

The patch of golden skin peeking from where his shirt rode up is somehow made even more golden by the afternoon sun pouring in through the window. (Louis always used to sleep shirtless, until he started seeing Harry, who insists on sleeping naked, then gets cold and steals the blanket, leaving Louis shivering on the other side of the bed every time.)

This isn’t the first time Harry’s woken up with Louis next to him (and Harry will thank God for that every single morning until the day he dies), but still he can’t help but stare. He does that a lot, but it’s always better when Louis doesn’t get shy and hides his face behind his hands or whines for him to stop. (“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he’d say with feigned confidence in his voice, the cherry red dusting his cheeks giving him away.)

When Louis’s asleep, he’s a work of art. A renaissance painting of a fine lady tangled in soft sheets. A sculpture of the most handsome man, one that makes Michelangelo’s David want to hide. When he’s awake, Louis’s fierce. He’s so confident and shy, so funny and smart, so sassy and so kind and so, so very beautiful. He’s like a sun, so bright Harry needs to squint sometimes, as if his heart couldn’t take just looking at him properly.

There are moments when Harry gets really insecure, and as much as he loves just staring at Louis like an absolute creep, he has to admit that moments like these, when Louis is just there, asleep and stunning, are when it hits the most. He can get so lost in his head, in a world where the only thing left to do is admire Him, that he forgets he’s a real person. He gets so caught up in this emotion, in the overwhelming adoration, that he feels like a bottle that was empty, just floating around in the ocean until the sun came up and filled it with love.

He still gets scared that at the end of the day, he has nothing to offer.

That after everything he gains from Louis, everything that Louis is, so effortlessly, Louis will realise that Harry doesn’t give the same. Because what is Harry, if not just madly in love with Louis?

There is a crease between Harry’s eyebrows as the lovely aura of this sunny ~~morning~~ _afternoon_ turns into crippling anxiety. He’s just about to panic when the body next to him stirs and Louis’ eyes flutter open.

His very, very blue eyes.

His very, very beautiful, very, very blue eyes.

“What are you staring at, weirdo?” Louis asks with a fond smile, his voice raspy and sleepy and lovely.

“Nothing,” Harry whispers, grinning.

You can’t be sad when Louis’s smiling at you like that. You can’t possibly feel non-existent when Louis can see you. When Louis can see you and look at you this way. It makes Harry’s heart swell.

Louis looks at him fondly for a second and then rolls out of the bed with a dramatic groan.

“Come on, Curly, let’s make some tea,” he says, leaning over the bed to peck Harry’s lips and running over to the kitchen to make his mandatory “morning” cuppa.

Harry stays in bed a few seconds longer and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can check out the moodboard or reblog [here](https://peggyschuylerbasically.tumblr.com/post/639302908961259520/golden) :)


	2. watermelon sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Louis meet at a club and go back to Harry’s. 
> 
> As Genius would say about Watermelon Sugar: “Everyone’s kind of figured out what it is about, the joys of mutually appreciated oral pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: smut, blowjobs, rimming, one night stand (or more?), mentions of alcohol
> 
> Thanks to [Jen](https://det395.tumblr.com/) for helping me! <3

Louis giggled into his shoulder as he dropped his keys on the floor the second time.

“Am I making you that flustered, darling?” he said teasingly, making Harry roll his eyes.

He bit his lip, leaning down to grab the keys, fully aware of Louis’ eyes on his ass. Almost painfully aware. His hands fumbled with the keys a bit more and he sighed in relief once he finally managed to unlock the door.

“Good job,” Louis winked at him, and pulled him inside, “I was getting worried we’d have to get naked right there on the staircase.”

Harry felt like he was in a trance, he was giggling uncontrollably, and his eyes were travelling all over Louis’ body. He looked even better than he did in the colourful lights of the club. Even better than in the backseat of the cab. He looked more relaxed, and - if it was even possible - even more sexy. 

“Can I- Can I kiss you?” he said hurriedly, grabbing Louis by the jacket and pulling him closer.

Louis chuckled, “‘d be upset if you didn’t.”

Louis looked at him for a while, hands making their way across his back, fingers counting his vertebrae, until they firmly gripped his waist.

The first peck was soft, gentle as a tipsy kiss can be. But then Louis' hands slid lower, his thigh between Harry’s legs, Harry bit down on Louis’ lip, and all the tenderness turned into hot desperation.

Louis started blindly walking them further into the flat, bumping into furniture and stumbling over their feet, not even knowing where he was going. Harry’s hands were clumsily trying to untuck his shirt from his pants, pulling at it in question and then pulling it off completely, gaze trailing over the ‘ _It Is What It Is’_ on Louis’ chest.

“Pretty,” he gasped, touching the tattoo gently with his finger.

“Yeah?” Louis replied softly, breaking the heated atmosphere for a moment, and then going back to kissing down his neck.

“Yeah... you’re pretty,” his hips stuttered as Louis bit his shoulder, stroking his hands up and down his arms.

“You’re quite the charmer, darling, aren’t you?” he grinned up at him, unbuttoning his shirt (or at least the last three buttons that he’d actually buttoned up before leaving the house) and sliding it off his shoulders.

They successfully got to the living room, falling down on the sofa, shirtless and still kissing. Harry’s hands were shaking, wantonly touching every part of Louis’ exposed skin he could reach, his mind was buzzing as Louis started grinding their hips together.

Harry wasn’t usually one to get all blushy and whiny and excited so easily, but he hadn’t done this in a while and ever since he’d seen Louis at the bar he was gone. He was so sensitive, shivering under Louis’ touch, Louis’ lips, Louis’ hands. His skin was hot, his mouth was hanging open in a silent moan as he was pinned down and all he could do was feel, feel, feel.

"Wanna take your pants off, darling, hmm?” Louis whispered in his ear with a smile, hand slowly making its way up his thigh.

“Lou,” Harry whimpered, already toying with the zipper, trying to wiggle out from under the other boy, “Louis- Lou.”

“Shh, I got you, yeah?” Louis said, struggling to pull down Harry’s tight jeans. He threw them aside with a small victorious noise that made Harry smile. He kissed the ‘ _NEVER GONNA_ ’ on one ankle and the ‘ _DANCE AGAIN_ ’ on the second one.

“Lou-is,” he whined some more, he was hard, and needy and he missed the weight of Louis on top of him. Louis just looked at him and smirked.

“Nice tattoos, darling. But what on Earth is that?” he laughed a little, staring pointedly at the funny looking drawing on Harry’s thigh.

Harry gave him a big smile.

“It’s a tiger! Roaaar!” He replied, giggling. Louis joined him.

“Pretty atrocious tiger, babe,” he said, shifting a bit higher to kiss over the tiger anyway.

The talking, the pet names, the kisses definitely didn’t help Harry with his situation.

“Can we- Louis, Louis can we-” he was still a little tipsy, and super horny on top of that, and Louis was amazing and he looked _so good_ . He wanted to never stop touching him, stop kissing him, never wanted them to get off this sofa ever again, he wanted to be on his _knees_. He wasn’t above begging.

“Anything, darling. You can have anything, just tell me,” Louis said, nosing the waistband of Harry’s boxers.

“Your- your mouth, please? Please, please Lou,” he whined, threading his fingers through Louis’ feathery hair. 

“Yeah? Want my mouth on you?” Louis grinned, kissing along the ferns tattooed on Harry’s stomach, over the soft hair of his happy trail, holding his hips down to stop them from buckling up.

Harry was a mess, curls sticking to his forehead with sweat, his teeth pressing hard into his bottom lip, stifling his whines. He nodded his head frantically.

Louis smirked, and keeping his eyes locked with Harry’s wide ones he leaned down and bit down on Harry’s hip bone. He let his lips trail softly over the fabric of Harry’s boxers, planting a kiss over the bulge, then sucking a little on the wet spot that had already appeared.

Harry wanted to beg, he wanted to cry; he didn’t know if he wanted to close his eyes to remain at least a little sane, or to keep them open, so he wouldn’t miss a second of the way Louis’ long lashes were casting shadows over his sharp cheekbones, the way he was looking up at him mischievously, the way his cheeks hollowed when he sucked on the fabric covering his body where Harry wanted to feel him the most.

“Can I take these off, babe?” Louis asked, pulling on the hem of the boxers.

“Off! Off, off, off, off,” Harry chanted, tugging them down as quickly as he could in his hazy state.

When Louis wrapped his thin lips around him, he saw stars. As much as he wanted to keep his eyes on them, to see Louis’ eyes bearing into his soul, he shut them close as soon as Louis’ tongue ran over the underside of his dick.

He had always enjoyed giving head more than receiving it, but having Louis sucking the life out of him made him want to close his legs around Louis’ head and never let him go.

One of his hands was scrambling to find something to hold on to, while the other was happily nestled in Louis’ hair, tugging more and more the deeper Louis sank. Louis was moaning around him, like he was having the time of his life, the vibrations making Harry whine.

“Lou, Lou, ‘m close,” Harry gasped, his thighs trembling with pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Louis pulled off, giggling a little as Harry’s hips followed his mouth with a whimper. He gave Harry a cute toothy grin, jerking him off with his hand.

“Come on, babe, let go,” he whispered to him, kitten licking the tip.

His eyes were watering, his mind was foggy, his hips kept jerking into Louis’ hand. He kept whimpering, tiny sounds mixed with Louis’ name and a series of _Oh my God_ s, and when Louis took him into his mouth again he lost control.

“There we go,” Louis said, kissing his hip as he worked him through the aftershocks, then crawling up his body to kiss his lips.

“Thank-” Harry kissed him, breathless, “thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, silly,” Louis laughed, but cut himself off with a groan as he rolled his hips against Harry’s thigh.

They kissed for a while until Harry caught his breath and rolled them around, as gracefully as he could on the small sofa.

“You’re still wearing pants,” Harry said with an exaggerated pout, tugging them down Louis’ legs.

“If I didn’t know you better, I would think you only brought me here to get in my pants, darling,” Louis grinned, looking far too hot for someone with a boner and pants around their thighs.

“Oh I would never,” with an unexpected burst of confidence, Harry winked at him and quickly got him naked.

He dug his fingers into Louis’ thighs with a groan. Louis was holding his breath, looking at him with his mouth wide open.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Harry said, not even taking his eyes off of Louis’ legs. Louis smiled down at him.

“Please,” he said it so quietly, Harry thought he might’ve made it up. He bit down on Louis’ inner thigh. He took his time, leaving a couple of hickeys on his way, kissing up one thigh, down the other and back.

“Come- come on, darling,” Louis said, throwing his head back.

Harry kissed over the last hickey quickly and moved up, mouthing over Louis’ crotch. Louis looked so good, Harry’s mouth was watering. Louis was breathing heavily above him.

“Louis,” Harry breathed, with a slight crease between his eyebrows, “Louis, could I-”

“Yeah.”

Harry hummed happily and leaned down, licking over Louis’ balls for a moment, then moving even lower. Harry’s hot breath hit Louis’ hole and he gasped.

“Harreh.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He said, burrowing his face in between Louis’ cheeks - how, just _how_ did his arse look like _that_? If Harry hadn’t somehow had the privilege to eat it right then, he would have been so mad - smiling at the sound Louis made when he circled his rim with his tongue.

“Babe, oh my- oh my God,” Louis said, his thighs quivering around Harry’s head. Harry moaned a little. At that moment, if those thighs suffocated him right where he was, he would die happy.

Louis was going crazy, his hands were flailing around, grabbing the sofa, his thighs, his hair, he was grinding on Harry’s tongue, and he was being _so_ _loud_. Harry was quite pleasantly surprised, because Louis seemed so composed and cool the whole night, it was so nice to see him fall apart like this.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, come on,” Louis was moaning. Harry was relentlessly kissing, licking, biting, with the filthiest noises that made Louis weak. He always liked getting his arse eaten out, but he rarely asked for it and men rarely did it. Meanwhile he had Harry there. Sweet, tipsy, giggly Harry who was sucking on his rim like it was his favourite meal.

“‘arreh-” Louis gasped and came. Harry leaned back, breathless, his face wet with spit. He grinned and laid back on top of Louis, cringing a little at the feeling of cum on Louis’ stomach.

“Darling,” Louis whispered into his hair, but he shushed him quickly.

“You’re staying here tonight,” he said dismissively. There was no way he was gonna let this boy go, especially this soon.

“Darling, we should clean up at least,” Louis giggled and moved to get up.

“There’s a cloth under the sink in the bathroom. Second door on the left,” Harry mumbled into the sofa, waving his arm in the direction of the hallway. Louis laughed softly and disappeared down the hall.

They fell asleep all clean, curled up together on the tiny sofa.

In the morning, after some really burnt pancakes and a cup of tea (Two cups. Okay, three cups of tea and a weird green smoothie Harry _insisted_ would help with the hangover.) Louis left with Harry’s shirt on, Harry’s number in his phone and a date next Monday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can check out the moodboard or reblog [here](https://peggyschuylerbasically.tumblr.com/post/639945633306968064/watermelon-sugar) :)


	3. adore you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even when Louis doesn't feel at home in his skin, Harry's touch still manages to soothe and numb the burning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: fluff, mild/referenced smut, body worship, emotional hurt/comfort, slight dissociation, mentioned bruises

The mirror is frowning at him. The person in the mirror isn’t him and they’re frowning at him. The hands that aren’t his pinch and poke at his skin, his hips, his legs, his arms. The person has red cheeks and even redder eyes, tears are rolling down their face.

Louis sniffles and frowns back at them. “Stop looking at me like that.”

(When his fingers touch his face, his cheeks are wet with someone else’s tears.)

(When Harry comes home, Louis’s calm, he’s not crying, the person in the mirror is him again. That’s just the effect Harry has on him sometimes.)

/////

He learns to avoid mirrors when he’s alone. It doesn’t actually help a lot, but it’s still easier. It’s easier to deal with swirling thoughts, without the swirling images before his eyes. 

When he’s having a bad day, however, he feels gross even just sitting on a sofa. He tries his best not to let any of his body parts touch each other.

(Skin can sometimes feel so poisonous.)

He tries not to think about how his fingers just _don’t feel right_ , they don’t feel quite as attached to him as he thinks his own body parts should.

(Tap, tap, tap, an unknown rhythm against the armrest.)

(On a good day, this would be a new song. On a bad day it mixes with his heartbeat in a way that just _doesn’t fit_.)

He should try to stay away from Twitter and random tabloids. He knows, because Harry keeps telling him so. But he’s bored and he doesn’t want to move, and his phone is right there. It’s too tempting.

(The hate comments and biting remarks hurt less than they did ten years ago, and yet…)

When Harry finally gets home, he can tell that something is wrong. Of course, he can. No one ever knew him as well as Harry does. No one ever wanted to get to know him the way Harry keeps getting to know him every single day. 

He kneels between Louis’ legs in front of the sofa, his hands gently caressing the soft skin of Louis’ knees.

(‘ _Don’t touch it, it will burn you,_ ’ Louis thinks, but Harry’s thumbs are rubbing slow circles against his thighs and he thinks Harry might have some sort of antidote in him.)

“Hi, Bambi,” Louis says, almost inaudibly, not meeting Harry’s eyes. He can feel Harry looking at him without it. Years and years of practice.

“Lou,” Harry whispers, and neither of them knows why they’re whispering. It just feels like they should.

(Maybe they’re both so used to being quiet, used to sneaking around backstages, hidden exits and hotel hallways. Maybe they don’t wanna break the bubble they found themselves in. Maybe voice quivers less when you whisper.)

Harry didn’t say much, but Louis knows what he’s asking. Louis’ teeth sink into his bottom lip. He finally looks up. Harry is looking at him, worried, but Louis doesn’t miss the sparkle when their eyes meet. Blue and green.

(I get so lost inside your eyes. Would you believe it?)

(There always was some sort of symbolism to it.)

“Don’t feel-” he starts to say but his voice sounds funny. He hasn’t even started crying, but he might. Soon. “I f-feel so _wrong_.”

Harry pushes down a sob. He knows, he _knows_ how Louis feels, but he doesn’t know what to do. Because Louis is perfect, he’s so fucking perfect and _what is he supposed to do_?

“I love you,” he says finally, and he knows it won’t help, not on a day like today.

(But it’s true. _God_ , is it true.)

Louis is staring into his eyes and Harry hopes he can read it in them, too. Then again, there’s never anything other than love in his eyes when he’s looking at Louis.

(Would you believe it?)

“Harry,” Louis just says, reaching his arms out for him with a slight pout and Harry immediately scoops him up and carries him upstairs, into their bedroom.

“You’re incredible, Lou, perfect,” he murmurs into his hair as he lays him down gently. Louis has to close his eyes. 

He keeps them closed as Harry kisses the top of his head, his forehead, his temple, both of his eyelids.

(Because Louis is pretty, so pretty.)

He kisses his nose, his cheeks, his chin, the corners of his lips.

(Because Louis is beautiful and Harry’s _so_ in love with him.)

His lips travel down his neck, across his collarbones, down his right arm.

(Kisses cover his forearm, his wrist, his palm, his knuckles, the tips of his fingers. Louis clenches the bedsheets with his other hand.)

“Hazza,” he whimpers, fingers tangling in Harry’s curls as the other boy licks over his chest.

“Shh,” Harry says, licking over the purple mark he just left on Louis’ tummy, “I love you, yeah? So much. Adore you.”

Louis just nods, his eyes still shut tight, trying not to think bad thoughts.

(When in doubt, he thinks about Harry. Harry deserves to be thought about.)

Harry is making his way down, and all Louis thinks about is how soft his lips are. How in love he is with them.

(When Harry thrusts into him the first time, he only thinks about how this makes him feel more beautiful. When Harry moans his name, he only thinks about how this makes him feel more real. When Louis moans Harry’s, he’s loud and open and they’re _finally_ not whispering.)

He lets Harry take care of him, he lets Harry make him feel good, he lets him touch and kiss and bite and caress every part of his body, until the poison of his skin feels like it has rubbed off. 

When Harry kisses his ankles, they’re suddenly not clumsy, they’re elegant. When Harry leaves love bites over his hips and ass, they’re no longer big and girly, they’re soft, they’re hot, they’re perfect for Harry to grab onto.

/////

(When he looks in the mirror the next day, his own face is staring back at him, glowing. The finger shaped bruises on his thighs aren’t his, but he doesn’t panic, because he knows what Harry’s hands look like by heart. He has spent enough time studying them.)

They stay in bed until noon, fingers tracing each other’s faces, the curve of their shoulders, the firmness of their muscles, the softness of their flesh. They leave kisses on each other’s cheeks, their lips, jaws, necks. Their skin is touching all over, the acid of Louis’ mixing with the base of Harry’s until nothing burns anymore. And when Louis rests his head on Harry’s chest, and Harry’s heartbeat mixes with his, it’s like a melody.

(Just let me adore you, like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do.)

(There’s no metaphor in this one, they’re just in love.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can check out the moodboard or reblog [here](https://peggyschuylerbasically.tumblr.com/post/640565682479726592/adore-you) :)


	4. lights up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Lights up and they know who you are, know who you are, do you know who you are?” 
> 
> or Louis helps Harry figure things out when he’s confused and frustrated with the world — and maybe helps him fall in love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: fluff, sexuality crisis, emotional hurt/comfort in a way?, very lightly implied sexual content, brief homophobic language (someone says a slur one time)

The girl at the Meet & Greet has most of her shirt unbuttoned, and Harry lets his eyes stop briefly at her cleavage.

Feel something. _Please_.

He has to quickly hide his frustrated pout when she approaches them and goes for a hug straight away.

There's so many people, screaming, giggling, and pushing each other, and Harry can feel their eyes on him, digging deep into his soul. He feels a little sick.

“Hey, you alright?” Louis asks him, but Harry only frowns as he watches the girl leave.

He wishes he thought she was hot.

/////

Louis gets out of the shower still wet, towel wrapped around his hips. Something falls on the floor with a loud bang and he jumps, turning around to see Harry scrambling to pick up the ugly hotel lamp he knocked down from the nightstand.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry says loudly, his eyes wide, fascinated by a droplet rolling down Louis’ chest, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Jeez, Curly,” Louis says with a grin and a _terrible_ American accent, “scared me to death.”

“‘m sorry,” he apologises again, putting the lamp back where it was and standing up.

“I should, um,” he says, eyes stubbornly stuck to the scratchy carpet, “I should go.”

“Wait, are you-” but Harry’s already gone, the door slammed hurriedly in Louis’ face.

“....-okay?” Louis finishes to the empty room.

/////

Standing in the shower, the water running, he almost doesn’t realise he started crying. He’s confused and wet and breathless, hoping the sound of the shower drowns out his little choked up sobs.

Images of thousands of people in the crowd flash before his eyes, interview after interview filled with “any girlfriends?” this and “attention of the girl fans” that, and he is _so sure_ that he liked girls before. He _liked_ liking girls.

He thinks of Louis, and Louis isn’t even that hot for a guy, he is kind of short and he doesn’t really have abs or anything, so why can’t he stop thinking about the way his hair was wet, and the way he was gripping the towel with one hand and why does that make him so _hard_?

He can’t meet Louis’ eyes for the next few days.

/////

“Faggots,” a paparazzi yells after them when he and the boys try to get through the masses.

Harry freezes on the spot, blood running cold. His ears started ringing, painfully aware of the people around them, of every whisper and chuckle, every stare.

There’s a gentle hand sliding across his lower back to wrap around him, leading him forward.

“Ignore them,” Louis murmurs in his ear and turns around to glare at the smirking photographer.

“You alright, H?” he hears Liam ask worriedly, but he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want to be there anymore. 

He doesn’t want to wake up to another article full of rude words and speculations, doesn’t want to go through another interview full of questions that make him even more confused about what the hell is going on with him right now.

They’re standing on the red carpet, letting reporters take more pictures of them, cameras flashing and clicking in their faces.

Harry throws up in the bathroom later.

/////

None of them was tired once the concert was over, so they found themselves at a random club they found on their way home. They lost each other right after they arrived, Niall is at the bar laughing his ass off at whatever the bartender is saying, Liam, Zayn and Louis are probably dancing somewhere and Harry’s sitting at a table with a girl in his lap, kissing down his neck.

And it’s nice. She’s warm and her lips are soft and she’s gripping Harry’s shirt and she’s hot.

Harry thinks she’s hot.

He knows he probably won’t get away with sneaking away or getting her into his hotel room tonight, but he’s aching in his jeans and biting down grunts as she nibbles on his ear and he’s finally calm for once.

The girl will brag to her friends later and Harry lets himself stare at Louis’ butt a little on their way back to the hotel.

/////

The calmness doesn’t last long. Every time Louis smirks when Harry walks around his room naked, every teasing remark, every wink digs him deeper into confusion.

Every slur, every rumour and every knowing look from people digs him deeper into self hatred.

He tries his best to avoid social media, tries to get as little contact with the public as possible.

“Only until I figure this out,” he tells himself, “I’ll be alright. I have it under control, I’ll just find a girl and-”

“Hazza! Me and Niall want to order pizza, but Liam and Zayn say it’s too unhealthy, but salads are obviously stupid so we need your vote so we can have a proper dinner,” Louis bursts into the room, shirtless and pretty and always so damn _loud_ , and-

Harry bursts into tears.

“Haz?” Louis looks at him, puzzled, “hey, you can vote for a salad if you want, I will forgive you.”

“I- I’m… just,” Harry stutters, and this must be the first time Louis’ arms around him don’t make him feel any better.

“What’s wrong?” Louis whispers into his ear, and Harry is upset because _why does Louis’ breath make him shiver like this_?

“Lou,” he whimpers and Louis just holds him tighter until he catches his breath enough to talk.

“I’m just so confused,” he whispers into Louis’ shoulder, “and… no one is ever this confused, and I am the most confused boy on the planet right now. Everyone else knows.”

“Confused about what, Haz?” Louis asks, running his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“I… I like girls, I do, or I- I did, at least I’m pretty sure,” he gulps, feels Louis’ hand stroke his back lightly, “but then- then sometimes I don’t, and I don’t know why, and th-then they call.. call me…”

He frowns, nuzzling Louis’ neck shyly, thinking about all the labels and names and slurs thrown at him.

“And, and then there is you and you-” he continues quickly, but halts as he lifts his head up and looks into Louis’ eyes.

“Me?” Louis says softly, a small smile on his lips.

“I don’t- I don’t always like girls. But I always like you.”

“Harry,” Louis whispers, and he’s smiling, his eyes are glowing, his hand slipped from Harry’s hair to cup the nape of his neck, “you like blokes?”

“I don’t know,” he says grumpily, his bottom lip jutting out.

“I do,” Louis says with a grin, “it’s alright. I can help you figure it out.”

“You’re gay?” Harry asks, surprised. He’d never heard anyone say it so... easily.

“I like boys. The name doesn’t really matter, does it?” 

And Harry- he never thought about it like that. His life was lately filled with people asking questions, with people gagging for information and he never realised that “Who cares?” was an option.

“Can I… I mean, if you wanted to try and see, I could maybe…” Louis looks down sheepishly, “kiss you? And then you can maybe figure some things out…”

Harry’s watching the soft blush on his cheeks and at that moment he’s pretty sure he’s got it figured out already.

“I think I’d like that,” he says, wide-eyed.

Their lips meet softly, shyly, and after a painfully long time Harry finally isn’t confused. In fact, he is quite sure that a kiss has never felt so nice, so peaceful. A kiss has never managed to quiet his soul like this before.

After a while, they part, breathing deeply, their foreheads touching, their eyes crossing in attempts to look at each other.

“Well?” Louis asks, a playful smile on his lips.

“I like a Louis. The rest doesn’t really matter, I think.” he says, biting his lip.

“Yeah? Well coincidentally, I really like a Harry.” Louis replies and Harry grins.

“Yeah, yeah, Louis likes Harry, Harry likes Louis, but does Harry like pizza or salad, come on,” Harry squeaks, their foreheads bumping together as they turn to glare at Niall, who’s indifferently leaning against the doorframe, staring into his phone.

When no one says anything, Niall looks up and groans, “Lads, some of us here are hungry _and_ single, can we _please_ decide?”

“....Pizza?” Harry says, and beams as it earns him a kiss on a cheek from the boy standing next to him.

And later that evening, when he’s sitting on the couch with his best mates, stomach full, Louis’ hand tangled with his on his lap and Louis’ head on his shoulder, he can finally breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can check out the moodboard or reblog [here](https://peggyschuylerbasically.tumblr.com/post/641222418848956416/lights-up) :)


	5. cherry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hadn’t heard the accent in a long time. He had hoped not to hear the accent for longer. He had hoped he would have time to heal before hearing it again.
> 
> or Louis is back in town with a new boyfriend and Harry realises he didn't move on as well as he thought

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one turned out to be a lot longer than I expected, but I hope you'll still enjoy it xD
> 
> tags: kind of sort of lovers to enemies to lovers?, getting back together, hot luke makes an appearance, louis is in a bit of a toxic relationship, fluff, angst, french!louis

The day started off terribly and it kept getting worse. His favourite shirt had a hole in it, he spilled milk all over the table and the bakery on the corner was out of croissants by the time he got there.

The second trip to the bakery – because he  _ was _ going to eat a croissant today, even if it was the last thing he’d do – turned out to be so much worse.

He was standing at the counter, almost ready to order, when he heard it. 

Now, he had a strong appreciation – for no particular reason, of course – for all things French. He liked the chansons and the berets and those freaking croissants, but the accent, mixed with the high pitched voice, the oh so familiar _notorious_ tone, made him freeze. Made him turn around on his heel.

He fought the urge to rub his eyes in disbelief like they do in cartoons. 

He hadn’t heard the accent in a long time. He had hoped not to hear the accent for longer. He had hoped he would have time to heal before hearing it again.

He turned back around frantically, considered giving up his daily croissant (he can’t know Harry keeps eating them every morning, he  _ can’t... _ ), running home and hiding under the covers like a frightened child.

He wanted to call his mum, make her come over and hug him until he falls asleep. He wanted to wake up and find out he had dreamed him.

What a painful daydream.

The cashier was looking at him weirdly so he just put on a smile and ordered, grabbed the brown paper bag, the croissants still warm – God, it was unhealthy how addicted he became to them – and left as quickly as possible, face red.

What was he  _ doing _ there?

/////

  
  


_ “Did you find a job here on purpose?” Harry laughed, looking fondly at Louis who after hours of complaining seemed to be finally satisfied, munching happily on his croissant. _

_ “Look, the bakery  _ you _ chose doesn’t even have the  _ right _ to call those croissants,” Louis exclaimed with a frown, mouth full, accent thick. _

_ “You’re dramatic,” he stuck his tongue out, making Louis roll his eyes. _

_ “I got the job first, discovered this place way later,” Louis explained, “I make them myself, you know I wouldn’t just go buy some if there was any other option.” _

_ Harry just shook his head with a soft smile, taking a bite of his own croissant and listening to Louis’ fast rambling. _

/////

  
  


He avoided the bakery for a few days, feeling a weird sort of shame as he went to buy croissants in a supermarket. 

“Why could it  _ possibly _ matter what he would think?” he told himself grumpily as he ate them later in his office, trying not to think about how they didn’t taste  _ right _ .

By Monday, he had to man up and go back to the bakery. He was praying last week had been just a hallucination. Some sort of ghost reminding him that croissants were a  _ morning _ kind of food. It definitely wasn’t him. Definitely not.

“Oh God, so sorry, chéri, I wasn’t looking where I was-” blue, blue,  _ blue _ eyes. Button nose.  _ Insanely _ hot facial hair. Hot shirt – burning, almost, he was-

“Oh my God,” Harry scrambled to pull the shirt, soaked in hot tea, away from his chest.

“...’arry,”

“No,” he mewled, and he felt so  _ childish _ , “no, no, no.”

“Are you alright? I really didn’t mean to.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he said, reluctantly looking up to see Louis staring at him worriedly.

This is not how he had imagined the meeting to go. Not that he spent a lot of time imagining them ever meeting again...

“Oops,” Louis said awkwardly, quickly looking down.

“Hi,” Harry replied quietly, letting his eyes wander across Louis’ face. He was always so beautiful.

“So… how ‘ve you been?” Louis asked and he looked about as excited to see him as Harry felt. He couldn’t possibly  _ still _ be bitter, could he?

“I’ve… yeah, I’ve been alright, um,” he said, nodding his head, looking around, because if he let himself look at Louis any longer, he would never stop again.

“Yeah.” 

_ Jesus, if this wasn’t the most awkward situation ever. _

“Oh, by the way,” Louis spoke again, reaching behind him, and Harry just now noticed a guy standing there, watching the whole conversation unfold, “this is Luke.”

Right. That guy.

How could he forget.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” he shook Luke’s hand, scolding himself about how insincere his smile must have looked.

“What’s up,” Luke said, and Harry hated how nice his voice was. Liam had told him the dude was hot, but Harry was still bitter about how true it actually was.

“What are you, um,” Harry started, looking back at Louis.

He definitely wasn’t upset to find him smiling at Luke. Why would he be?

“Oh, I just moved back ‘ere, actually,” Louis said with a tight smile.

“Oh, cool, cool,” Harry tried to make his voice sound politely excited. All he managed was to say it too loudly to sound natural.

“Yeah.”

“Right, I’m gonna order you another tea, babe,” Luke said, kissing Louis’ cheek, and strolled away with one last smile to Harry.

“So… It’s nice to see you,” Harry wanted to combust, he’d do anything to get out of this conversation. He pretended not to hear Louis’ soft scoff. This man had hurt his feelings enough.

“Yeah,” Louis replied, “it’s been a while, hasn’t it.”

“It has, yeah,” Harry whispered. They let their eyes meet for a few seconds before they both looked down.

They stood there in silence until Luke walked back to them with a fresh cup of tea. When Harry got back home he realised he hadn’t even bought the croissant he went there for.

/////

  
  


_ “Come on, it’s gonna be chill, you need to get out of the house for a little bit or you’ll go crazy,” Niall, who obviously hadn’t grasped the concept of telephones yet, screamed into the speaker. _

_ “I don’t know, guys, I don’t really feel up to it today, to be honest,” Harry groaned into the phone. He had planned a self care night, he bought ice cream and got the Love, Actually DVD ready. He didn’t wanna go out, and be the one to watch Niall to make sure he didn’t get vomit on his pants while Liam was off trying to pull. _

_ “You never feel up to it,” he knew Liam was rolling his eyes, “but we’re already on our way to pick you up, so you have no choice this time. Sorry, mate.” _

_ Harry was about to protest, but they’d already hung up. _

/////

  
  


_ The DJ was absolutely terrible. Harry had no idea where they found him, but he thought they should fire him immediately. Despite the absolutely  _ pitiful _ choice of music, people seemed to be extremely eager to get on the dancefloor, jumping embarrassingly, grinding, some attention-seeking couples even slow dancing to the quick beat of the song. _

_ Harry was doing a decent job avoiding any unwanted human interaction, standing in the corner and judging people’s outfits. _

_ “I think you should find a nice lad and,” Niall hiccuped in his ear, Harry glaring at him in disgust, “you know… a nice lad.” _

_ “Jesus, Niall, who could I  _ possibly _ find  _ here _? It’s a complete shithole,” Harry groaned. He just wanted to go home. _

_ “Well I don’t know,” Niall said, and looked around exaggeratingly, “that guy over there looks right classy if you ask me.” _

_ He pointed with his whole arm, even leaning a little bit towards the table he meant. Harry quickly slapped his arm away and looked at the guy. _

_ He was hot. Okay, he was actually super hot, he got really dark hair, and a black leather jacket over a loose white shirt that revealed his tattooed chest and then he leaned back a little bit and next to him- _

_ “See, I knew he’s hot,” Niall mumbled next to him, but Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of the other boy. _

_ He looked very delicate, he had his hair styled in a quiff, and cheekbones that looked like he could cut you in half with them. He was laughing, his eyes almost disappearing behind the crinkles, and Harry thought he looked like an angel. _

_ “Oh look, he’s looking our way!” Niall shouted, and before Harry managed to wake up from his trance and make him shut up, Niall managed one more, very loud “Hey there!” _

_ “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” Harry chanted as Niall was trying to bite the hand Harry slapped over his mouth.  _

_ Unfortunately, the boys noticed. Harry cursed under his breath when he saw the dark haired one point at them and say something to the Angel with an amused smile. The boy waved at them and Harry glared at Niall. _

_ Niall didn’t care, waving back excitedly and pulling Harry towards the table. _

_ “Hi, I’m Niall,” he exclaimed loudly, leaving Harry to groan behind him, “this is my friend Harry, can you keep him company for a while?” _

_ “Niall!” He yelped, hitting his arm. _

_ “For sure, come sit,” the hottie said, still looking extremely amused. Harry didn’t blame him. The situation was completely ridiculous. _

_ “See, I found you friends, now if you excuse me, I’m gonna dance,” Niall said and patted Harry on the back. _

_ Harry looked back at him with wide eyes. “Niall, what the  _ fuck _?” _

_ “What? I’m not gonna stand in the corner with you this whole time because you need company! I came here to have fun,” he waved his hand carelessly and strolled away. _

_ Harry stayed on the chair, still looking at the spot Niall was standing just a few seconds ago, very confused. Very embarrassed. _

_ “Hey, um, I’m really sorry,” he started, turning to look at the poor two boys smiling at him, sharing a look, “he’s just, you know, really drunk.” _

_ “It’s chill, man,” the hottie reached his hand towards him, “I’m Zayn.” _

_ “Hi,” he said, and why was he so shy all of a sudden? _

_ He noticed Angel looking at him with a small smile. Then he noticed that he had been staring at him for a good while. _

_ “Oh, I’ll- um, I’ll leave you guys to- yeah, um, have fun, I’m so sorry for Niall, again-” _

_ “No, wait, you don’t ‘ave to-” the voice was quiet and the accent was so so strong. _

_ Angel cleared his throat. “I’m Louis.” _

_ He was  _ french _. His voice was high and lovely and Harry was completely enamoured. _

_ “Wow.” he said. Louis smiled at him. _

_ What? _

_ “I- I mean, nice to meet you,” he said quickly, and thanked God that they can’t see his cheeks burning because of the club lights. _

_ Louis’ grin was the greatest thing he’d ever seen. _

_ “Enchanté.” _

_ Louis’ hand in his was the greatest thing he’d ever felt. _

/////

  
  


He had been sitting in the bakery for almost an hour when Liam called him he wasn’t coming. He was on his third tea, and at least fifth look of sympathy from the waitress.

He was taking his time, it started raining about 20 minutes ago and he didn’t have an umbrella, and even though it wasn’t a long walk, he would’ve still prefered to get home dry.

After ten more minutes he had to accept the fact that the rain wouldn’t stop anytime soon, and started to get up, when the door opened with a soft ring and a man stormed inside.

A very familiar man.

A very familiar French man.

This was just Harry’s luck. Maybe he shouldn’t have moved here.

“Damn Louis and his stupid obsession with proper croissants,” he thought, sinking further into his seat, hoping to magically become invisible.

He watched Louis, drenched to the bone, grumpily order and turn around, his eyes scanning the place. Groaning, Harry sat up properly when Louis obviously noticed him, and slightly reluctantly made his way towards him.

“One more time and I’ll start to think you live here now,” Louis said once he approached him.

“Right,” Harry sighed. “No umbrella?”

Louis looked out of the window, looking kind of sheepish, “No, I- I left in a bit of a rush, you know.”

He looked so nervous and angry, and the wet clothes only made him look worse.

“Everything okay?” Harry asked, fighting the urge to reach out his hands and grab Louis’.

Louis didn’t answer, didn’t meet his eyes.

“Can I… can I sit here with you?” he asked after a while. Harry wanted to tell him he was about to leave, but his eyes were so sad, and he started shivering and Harry just  _ couldn’t _ . 

“So… what happened?” 

“Me and Luke had this… fight,” Louis said with a frown after the waitress brought him his tea and a croissant, sending one last encouraging look to Harry. 

(Harry tried not to think about how he  _ knew _ he would order that.)

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked quietly.

Louis shook his head. “I’m alright. It was just a small argument. I overreacted, stormed out… you know how I am.”

Harry just nodded his head slowly.

“I know,” he whispered.

/////

  
  


_ Harry picked him up before lunch. He was standing in front of Louis’ door, nervously playing with a curl that escaped from the dark red bandana wrapped around his head. It was a last minute decision, after a long and tiring fight with his hair that just did not want to cooperate. _

_ He hadn’t been on a date in a really long time, especially not with a cute French guy he met once under terribly embarrassing circumstances. _

_ “‘arry!” Louis opened the door with a wide grin. Harry couldn’t get over the way Louis said his name. _

_ He looked even better than the first time Harry saw him. Harry paused to look at him for a second, his hand still wrapped around the unruly curl in front of his eyes. _

_ “Hi,” Harry said, almost breathlessly, smiling at the other boy. _

_ “You look very cute,” Louis said, pulling Harry into a quick hug. Harry stood there shocked, before wrapping his hands around Louis and squeezing.  _

_ He had always considered himself quite social, chatty, but that was before he met Louis Tomlinson. Louis was super outgoing and touchy and so much fun to be around; after the night in the club Harry had felt a little high. _

_ Harry blushed furiously. That was another thing Louis did. Showered people with compliments. Showered  _ Harry _ with compliments, as Zayn specified to him while Louis was in the bathroom. _

_ “Thank you,” Harry said, and he was about to say something equally nice and breathtaking back, but then Louis grabbed his hand and started leading him down the street, and his mind went blank. _

_ Louis didn’t seem to be flustered at all, contentedly swinging their hands between them, smiling up at him. _

_ “I think you should be the one leading the way, mon ange,” Louis nudged him with his elbow teasingly, making Harry look up from where his eyes were glued to the way Louis’ small hand was holding his so tightly. _

_ “Right,” Harry said quickly, “I was thinking we could go to this really nice chinese restaurant I found the other day…” _

/////

  
  


When the screen of his phone lit up and How to Save a Life by the Fray started playing, he thought he must’ve imagined it. He hadn’t seen the photo in years, he had almost forgotten that was his ringtone.

He brought the phone to his ear slowly. “Louis?”

“‘az?” a French accent sniffled into the phone.

_ ‘az. _

Harry wanted to break down. It was five in the morning, he was on the phone with Louis,  _ Louis _ , who was calling him “‘az”.

For a second he felt like nothing had changed.

“Lou, are you okay?” He asked, voice raspy, slowly getting up on the bed.

“‘az, could we please meet somewhere? S'il vous plaît,” Louis talked quickly as always, slipping into French when upset.

“Okay, yeah, of course,” Harry whispered, “where are you?”

/////

  
  


Fifteen minutes later they were standing in front of a closed bakery. By the time they found each other Louis had stopped crying, and he was standing next to Harry in stubborn silence.

“Well,” Harry said awkwardly, “they open at six.”

“Génial,” Louis deadpanned.

“So. What now?”

Louis sighed, rubbing his still red eyes. “We can wait here, I guess.”

Harry looked at him with an arched eyebrow, but when Louis didn’t say anything, only kept looking at the bakery door, he shrugged and sat down on the ground. Louis looked at him funnily and sat next to him.

“How did you get here so quickly?” Louis asked, staring blankly ahead. He looked so pretty, less messy than the last time (and definitely more dry).

He still looked kind of rushed, as if he had been quick to throw some clothes on and leave. Harry really wanted to know what was happening between him and Luke. 

“I, um,” he said slowly, “I live nearby.”

Louis turned to look at him in surprise. “You moved?”

“I did, yeah,” Harry said, looking down at his fingers tangled together in his lap, “I… I couldn’t, um. Couldn’t just… stay there. You know.”

Louis was staring at him, his eyes filled with an emotion Harry wasn’t able to read. He didn’t know if it was because Harry had forgotten him, the small details of him that used to matter the most, or simply because it’d been a couple of years and Louis was a slightly different person now. They both were. Harry couldn’t decide which option was more upsetting.

“Do you come here often?” Louis tried to change the topic, but he just unknowingly kept making things worse.

Harry let out a dry chuckle. “Are you trying to flirt with me, Monsieur Tomlinson?”

“Excuse me, Styles, I am in a relationship, thank you very much,” Louis said, and did Harry imagine the bitterness in his tone?

“Did your relationship go through another argument?” Harry couldn’t help but ask.

“I didn’t say that,” Louis said curtly.

“I  _ know _ you, Louis,” he replied. Louis just looked back ahead with a deep frown.

Okay, he did  _ not _ want to talk about this.

“Every morning,” Harry said instead.

“Huh?”

“I come here every morning,” he explained, then took a deep breath, “they make good croissants.”

He was sure he heard Louis’ breath hitch. 

“Oh,” Louis whispered. 

“I stop by on my way to work.”

Louis maybe didn’t want to talk about that, but Harry refused to sit in silence anymore. That was never who they were.

Louis cleared his throat. “You still work at the same place?”

“Yeah.” 

Louis nodded. “I’m trying to get my old job back as well.”

_ They would be so  _ close _ to each other. _ Not that it mattered. 

“It was really difficult after you left, you know?” Harry got the courage to say quietly, “I was trying to call you so many times. Was super worried.”

Louis looked kind of uneasy, but it was important for Harry to tell him that. 

“I kept-“ Harry started, his voice was trembling a little bit and he hoped Louis didn’t notice. 

“I kept asking Zayn about you, but he didn’t know a lot-“

“You talk to Zayn?” Louis asked. Something about his tone made Harry irritated. 

“Come on, I built my  _ life _ around you, Louis.” He said, voice loud, frustrated. “You can’t leave and expect me to give up everything that you brought with you.”

“But you did move,” Louis said, and he looked so calm, it just made Harry more angry. Was he really the only one so affected by it?

“And what was I supposed to do, huh? You think you can just move on, get yourself a brand new hot guy and leave me to cry myself to sleep on your side of the bed every night? I was upset. I had to cope somehow. Don’t be so selfish.” he exploded, thoughts running through his head.

All those wasted nights, when Liam or Niall had to come over to remind him to breathe. 

The time Zayn told him Louis had a boyfriend. The time Liam kept talking about how attractive and rich and  _ great _ he was. 

Louis treated him like a meaningless peasant his royal ass left behind to achieve greater things. 

“Then don’t blame me for moving on as well,” Louis retorted, obviously annoyed. 

Harry was about to snap back, but he stopped himself. Took a deep breath. 

“Are you happy with him, at least?” he asked quietly. It was nearing six, the sun slowly rising. 

“Oui,” Louis said shortly. 

“Why are you always arguing?”

“None of your business.”

Harry clenched his jaw. He wanted to let it go, he was so glad that when Louis was upset, he decided to call him, and he didn’t want to ruin it now. But the remark was on the tip of his tongue and when he opened his mouth to take a breath, it just fell out. 

“We never used to argue that often,” he said, and winced when he saw Louis’ head turn to him sharply.

“We had different problems, ´arry, and you  _ know _ that.”

“Worse than having a ton of leaving-the-house-immediately kind of arguments?”

The lights inside the bakery turned on, a poor teenager that had to open today sleepily walked in from the back room. Louis stood up abruptly. 

“I’ll let you know, Luke is amazing, and I am super happy with him.” he said loudly, defensively. 

“What’s so great about him, then? What does he have to compensate for you spending hours in a random fucking bakery to get away from him?”

Harry didn’t mean to be so mean. He didn’t mean to attack. He didn’t know what got into him.

Maybe hearing Louis cry over the phone was too much for him to handle. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Tell me, Louis. What does he do? He buys you fancy flowers? Does he take you walking ‘round his parents’ gallery?” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Louis was looking at him with a frown, and there was so much rage in his eyes Harry had to look away. 

At six in the morning, the bakery opened. The boy unlocked the door, giving the two men a strange look and went back behind the counter. 

“Fuck you,” Louis spat at him and walked inside. 

Harry went home.

/////

  
  


_ “You’re such a sap,” Harry giggled, looking fondly at Louis, surrounded by candles. _

_ “Well, I’m sorry for trying to please you, Mr. rom-com lover,” Louis retorted, the soft tone of his voice giving him away. _

_ “A blanket fort?” Harry asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement. _

_ “I stole almost all blankets from Zayn’s place,” Louis said with a mischievous grin, “he was so annoyed, but I told him it was very important, you see.” _

_ “I love you so much,” Harry said earnestly and climbed through the opening into the fort. _

/////

  
  


“What did he do now?” Harry asked, hands wrapped around the warm mug.

Louis just looked at him and stubbornly dug into his croissant.

“Okay, what do you wanna talk about, then?”

“How is Gemma?”

Harry scoffed. “Really?”

Louis just raised his eyebrow at him.

“Come on, don’t even make that face. Are we never going to talk about your boyfriend? See, because before this, I was under the impression he was perfect,” Harry said sarcastically.

“Look, if I wanted relationship advice I definitely wouldn’t come to you,” Louis snapped, his accent getting stronger the more annoyed he was.

“Why do you come to me, then? For tea and croissants? To shove your new relationship in my face? Do you enjoy stepping on my heart more than you already have?”

If Louis was allowed to snap at him for asking questions, he was allowed to snap for being played with.

Louis stayed quiet for a moment, frowning at his tea. “If you don’t wanna see me, you can say no, you know?” he grumbled, not looking up.

Their eyes rarely met now. Harry used to really love looking into Louis’ eyes.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know I do want to see you,” Harry said, his voice softer now, because no matter how annoyed he was, he couldn’t just be  _ mean _ to Louis. Not again.

“Gemma is doing great, she’s engaged,” he decided to change the topic, he didn’t think he was ready to hear what Louis had to say to that.

Louis looked up, grinning, his eyes wide, “Engaged? To the guy she was dating before?”

“Yeah, the wedding is planned for next May. Mum is already freaking out,” Harry explained fondly.

They started talking about Gemma, the wedding, weddings in general, until the sun went down.

They didn’t talk about Luke at all.

/////

  
  


_ “‘azzie,” he heard Louis croak out from their bedroom. _

_ He cursed under his breath, quickly opening the windows to get rid of the smoke. He grabbed a tray, set down the steaming tea, strawberries, and after a bit of a mental turmoil also a plate with two embarrassing looking, burnt croissants. He carefully walked to the bedroom. _

_ “‘azzie, I’m dying,” Louis said quietly, but a round of almost violent coughing interrupted him. _

_ “Aww, Boo,” Harry said, setting the tray down on the bedside table and kissing Louis’ forehead, “you’ll be okay.” _

_ Louis pouted. “Did you make me tea, ‘azzie?” _

_ He was always so soft when he was sick. _

_ “I did, bubba,” he whispered, getting in the bed beside Louis, cuddling up to him. “I, um. I also tried- but, it didn’t really work out.” He said, getting the tray and putting it on their duvet-covered legs. _

_ “You made croissants?” Louis said, his voice almost giving out mid-sentence, his eyes wide and excited. _

_ “I mean… I tried, but,” he knew Louis only liked his croissants done properly, in a very specific way. _

_ But Louis wasn’t listening to him, already halfway done with his snack, with a bright smile on his face. _

/////

  
  


“One would think you’d get a discount after eating here so often,” Harry told Louis quietly once he paid for them. Louis laughed wetly and smacked his arm.

They sat down at their usual table, Harry across from sad looking Louis.

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk about it. But maybe it would make you feel better?” 

“Talk about what?” Louis said, looking to the side.

He knew what Harry meant.

“You know what I mean,” Harry said.

Louis looked at him for a minute, considering. He sighed. “Luke is… complicated.”

“Uh huh,” Harry said with an arched eyebrow.

“I feel like he treats me like a child sometimes, you know? It’s really annoying, he’s like… super controlling. It’s like I am this naive… fragile… thing, and I don’t-” Louis said, and Harry-

Harry understood.

Louis never wanted to be taken care of. Even when he was younger, softer, more flamboyant... He always hated it. He hated feeling weak. 

“He always acts so serious and- I guess at first I was charmed by the confidence, you know, but I just- sometimes I wish he was… normal.” Louis finished his rant. He looked up, caught Harry staring at him.

“I mean. I love him, you know. I just... sometimes I don’t even feel like a real person.”

And yeah.

Harry understood.

/////

  
  


_ “‘azza,” Louis murmured one night, running his fingers through Harry’s hair, Harry’s head nuzzled into his neck. _

_ “Lou,” Harry whispered, leaving soft kisses over Louis’ jaw, tightening his arms around his torso. _

_ Louis giggled at him, “‘azzaaa.” _

_ “What?” Louis’ other hand was gently stroking his arm, making Harry shiver and smile into Louis’ skin. _

_ “Je T'aime.” _

_ Harry’s heart jumped in his chest, butterflies in his stomach going crazy. _

_ “I love you,” he breathed out, shutting his eyes. _

/////

  
  


“Lou, this is getting ridiculous.”

They were sitting on the doorstep of the bakery. It was two in the morning, and Harry  _ told _ him that it’s too early to sit there, he told him they could just stay at Harry’s when Louis showed up, but Louis didn’t want to.

He was a mess, clothes all wrinkled and hair disheveled, very disheveled, and for very obvious reasons Harry didn’t want to think about.

“I’m fine,” Louis said, running his fingers through his hair.

“Louis.”

“‘arry,” he raised an eyebrow. 

Harry sighed. “I-”

Louis turned to look at him.

“I miss you, you know,” he said.

“We meet so often,” Louis replied, tugging on the hem of his shirt in poor attempt to make it look less wrinkled.

“We do,” Harry said carefully, “and I- I think I’m enjoying it more than I should.”

Louis didn’t reply, his eyes quietly following the lonely car driving by them.

/////

  
  


_ “Baby,” Louis said, poking Harry’s cheek. Harry kept ignoring him, eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip jutted out. _

_ “Chéééri,” he tried again, kissing over where Harry’s dimple usually appeared. _

_ “No,” Harry grumbled, “you cheated.” _

_ “Baby,” he said, trying to stop the giggles from slipping out, “I couldn’t have possibly cheated every time we played, you’re just not very good.” _

_ “I  _ refuse _ to believe that. I am good at every game  _ ever _.  _ Especially _ Catan.” _

_ “Sure, baby,” Louis smiled, putting his hand on Harry’s cheek and leaning in for a kiss. _

_ Harry reluctantly kissed him back. “I  _ am _ good at games.” _

/////

  
  


“And, like, I am perfectly capable of getting the bloody job myself, you know? I got it before, I can get it again now. But noo.” Louis complained, his arms crossed over his chest grumpily.

“Fuck this guy,” Harry murmured into his tea. He probably shouldn’t have.

“What was that?” Louis spat, and Harry should’ve known Louis was too irritated today for this conversation. He should’ve noticed.

“Look, I’m sorry. But he constantly pisses you off and-”

“Luke is actually a great guy, okay? You just meet me every time I’m annoyed at him.” Louis said, very much annoyed.

“Yeah? Well I don’t know if you noticed, but I meet you super often,” Harry retorted.

“A coincidence,” Louis grumbled.

“A coincidence? Louis,” Harry said incredulously, “you  _ call _ me every time. You call  _ me _ .”

“Well I have no one else to call, okay?!” he yelled, startling the lady behind the counter, “I haven’t lived here in years, everyone I knew here is  _ gone _ .”

“Oh I am your last choice, am I?” Harry couldn’t hold in any more snarky remarks.

“Oh, fuck you, ‘arry, this isn’t helping me at all,” Louis stood up, grabbed his jacket, and he was gone.

/////

  
  


_ “Loubear?” Harry whispered into his chest. _

_ Louis was almost asleep, only humming to let Harry know he had his attention. _

_ “What if we never met?” _

_ Suddenly, Louis was wide awake. “What do you mean?” _

_ “I mean,” Harry looked down, “I didn’t want to go out that day. And, um, I love you.” _

_ Louis squeezed him tighter.  _ I love you too _. _

_ “Just… what would happen?” Harry finished, his voice small. _

_ “Baby,” Louis said, running his fingers softly over Harry’s spine, “you know I would always find you.” _

/////

His phone rang. Harry felt like after this – whatever the hell this was – was over, he couldn’t listen to the song again.

“Lou,” he sighed into the phone.

He never knew if the voice on the other hand would be wobbly with tears, or  _ very French _ with anger.

“I’m sorry.”

The voice was surprisingly calm. Just the right amount of French.

“You- what?” he asked, confused.

“For, for the other day, you know,” Louis continued, like Harry didn’t even say anything, “and also… also for every other time.”

“Louis, are you okay?” Harry stood up, getting ready to slip on his shoes and go get him, wherever he was.

“And for the- for what happened between us, you know, back then. I am sorry for that too,” Louis said, and here was the wobble.

“Louis, are you alright? I’m going- going to get you, please tell me where you are-” he opened his front door, and his body slammed into another one.

“Oops,” Louis said, lowering his phone from his ear.

Harry looked up at him, rubbing his elbow. 

“Hi.” He was so confused.

“Louis, what-”

“I love you.”

One second. Two. Three.

“What?”

Louis laughed quietly. “I love you.”

Harry didn’t know what was going on, but his eyes started tearing up.

“Lou, I- I love you too, but what-”

“I broke up with him,” Louis interrupted him. 

“I love you, and I broke up with Luke, because I really really love you, and I don’t love him, because that’s not…” he sobbed, “that’s not what love is supposed to make you feel like.”

Harry clumsily got back up. “What is it supposed to feel like, then?” he asked.

Louis grabbed his hand. “I’m not sure but… I’m pretty sure it feels like whatever emotion I felt when you told me you eat croissants every morning.”

Harry made a sound, and it was embarrassing. It was something between a giggle and a sob and he was so relieved Louis was okay and suddenly he was so  _ happy _ .

“Loubear,” he said, and then Louis was kissing him, and he tasted like cherry bubblegum and black tea like he always used to and Harry was sure he was dreaming.

They went inside.

They talked the whole night, and for the first time in ages Harry wasn’t worried about saying the wrong thing and making Louis storm out.

They fell asleep together inside a blanket fort. Zayn didn’t even have to be upset this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can check out the moodboard or reblog [here](https://peggyschuylerbasically.tumblr.com/post/641852846562803712/cherry) :)


	6. falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry doesn’t handle jealousy well. Or confrontation. Or being left alone for too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, panic attack tw, possibly cheating tw? (but not actually)

“Oh, so you _asked_ her?” Louis laughed bitterly, “Fantastic.”

“Don’t tell me you mind!” Harry yelled.

He was just so angry. He did nothing wrong, Louis had no right to be mad at him.

“Well excuse me,” Louis yelled back at him, “my boyfriend asked a girl out on a date, I’m sorry for being a bit fucking chafed!” He was standing in the middle of their hotel room, looking at him incredulously.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were the only one allowed to have a girlfriend,” he scoffed. 

Apparently that was a wrong thing to say. Louis turned to look at him with wide eyes.

“You can’t be serious,” Louis muttered under his breath in disbelief.

“You can’t be fucking serious, Harry,” he said louder, making Harry flinch, “Do you think- do you genuinely think I _enjoy_ this? Do you think I want to walk around holding hands with _Eleanor Calder_ instead of being home with _you_?”

“And how do you think I feel, huh? When you go out wining and dining while I have to sit here and wait? I wanted to do something too, so I made my own fun,” Harry defended.

“See, that’s funny, I always thought your version of fun was baking cupcakes and watching bad rom-coms, not dating Taylor bloody Swift!” Louis snapped back.

“Who should I date instead, then?”

“Me!” Louis screamed, throwing his hands up, “you’re dating _me_ , Harry, for god’s sake. And if I could do it without all this, I would be the happiest person on the planet. But I can’t.”

“Right, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with her,” Harry rolled his eyes, annoyed.

“What the fuck, H? Do you think I’m _cheating_ on you?” Louis asked.

“Well I don’t know, you spent your and El’s anniversary with her, and our anniversary – with who?” he put his finger on his chin dramatically, “Oh yeah! Also with her.”

Louis rubbed his face with his hand, frustrated, “Harry we’ve talked about this so many times before. You know the truth. But opening a magazine and seeing you and, and Taylor, and your- your hands-”

“Do I, though? Do I really know, Louis?” Harry said, tears pooling in his eyes.

(Was he still mad? Was he sad? Upset? Tired?)

Louis’ phone rang, and he looked at it immediately. It only made Harry more grumpy. 

Louis sighed. “Look, this conversation is ridiculous.”

Harry only scoffed, arms crossed over his chest.

“I need to go, but we’ll sort this out once I’m back,” his boyfriend said, grabbing his coat.

“Oh, so you’re just gonna leave now?” Harry asked bitterly, sitting down on the bed facing away from Louis.

“Bambi, you _know_ I gotta go to the shopping centre with El-” Louis said desperately, putting on his shoes.

“Right, go off with your girlfriend, have a fun fucking date!” Louis slammed one of his old Vans down. “You know what? Fuck you, Harry. You can’t just shift the blame on me every time you do something, I have the right to get mad at things too!” Harry was stubbornly staring at a wall, frowning. “I have feelings, and I am sick and tired of retreating every time and pretending everything’s alright, because God forbid you get slightly upset! I deserve an apology when you fuck up, Harry.”

Louis finished, and the room stayed quiet. Harry’s mind was screaming at him to say something, but he was too stubborn, too angry. Louis waited a while, standing completely still, but then his phone rang again, so he just turned around, slamming the door behind him.

Harry huffed and laid down. The more he stared at the wall, the uglier the hotel room wallpaper became. He entertained himself by looking for shapes in the random pattern. A boot, a muffin, a cowboy hat, a pyramid, a cloud – “Idiot,” Harry thought to himself, “clouds look like anything.” – and then one that looked suspiciously like George Clooney.

Time passed, wallpaper was running out, and Harry started slowly cooling off. He really didn’t like arguing. He always got angry and defensive really quickly, but then was even quicker to get sad and guilty. The clock on the wall was really loud, and with each tick Harry was sinking further and further into the mattress. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he felt like Louis should’ve been back by now. 

One, two, three, four.

_Tick, tick, tick, tick._

He fucked up.

He decided to distract himself on his phone instead, but as soon as he opened twitter, he was drowned by a ton of pictures of him and Taylor, outside, his hand in her hand, on her back, his arm around her shoulders, his face in her hair, and _oh no_.

_Tick, tick, tick, tick._

Five minutes, ten, fifteen, half an hour.

Louis wasn’t coming.

Harry put his phone down, tired of Taylor’s face. Tired of his _own_ face. He sat back up and started fidgeting. Laying there didn’t feel right without Louis there. Without Louis’ hands around his waist,

_(his fingers touching Taylor’s wrists softly)_

on his face,

_(his skin brushing against Taylor’s arm)_

against his palm,

_(rubbing Taylor’s nailpolish with the pad of his finger, their fingers intertwined)_

down his _pants_ ,

 _(his thumb rubbing circles on the skin of Taylor’s hip)_...

He got up and got into the shower. He washed his hands once, twice, three times, until the skin was rubbed raw. He bursted into tears.

He felt so stupid. 

He _knew_ Louis hated his dates with Eleanor. He _knew_ Louis had been furious when the management scheduled one right on their anniversary. He also knew Louis did it for him, for the two of them.

He knew these things.

He felt so stupid.

Another hour had passed. Harry was trying to remember what time it was when Louis had left. He was trying to stop the tears from rolling down his face. He was trying to stop his mind from screaming so loudly.

Louis wasn’t coming.

He tried calling him, but he didn’t pick up. He thought about how quickly he had checked his phone earlier. He tried calling Liam, but he didn’t pick up either.

He sent him a voice message.

Then another one.

And another one.

He couldn’t breathe. When he couldn’t talk anymore he started texting. 

Taylor.

_We won’t meet again. -H_

Louis.

_I love you. -H_

_I’m sorry. -H_

_I love, love, love you. -H_

As an afterthought, _Please. -H_

Liam.

_Chkc ur voicmal. -H_

His fingers were trembling.

_I didn't know what I was doing wrogn_

_Can't seem to go throgh life without fuckin up every single thing I hve_

_I rlly didn’t know he wuld be angy at me but he is and i dn't know what to do_

A while later he found himself curled up at the edge of the bed, hugging himself, sobbing into his knees. The ticking of the clock made him more and more nervous, his fingers were picking on the thread that escaped from the seam of his jeans, but his hands were shaking so hard it kept slipping out.

His mind was wandering, pricking like needles into his emotions, beating himself up over today, and the day from yesterday and the little jealous fit he had thrown last week and every other time he was the reason for their fights. Louis’ words were ringing in his ears, and he was thinking about all the times he had tried to escape Louis’ anger and hurt by turning on him.

He felt disgusting.

He got up again, absolutely restless, and started pacing around the room. He walked back into the bathroom, leaning against the sink and looking at himself in the mirror. 

He looked terrible. His face was red, and wet with snot and tears, his hair was messy from the many times his fingers pulled, scratched and tugged. His phone dinged from where it laid after he had thrown it across the room. He rubbed his nose with a pout and rushed to check.

It wasn’t Louis.

It was Niall.

_simon made u go out with taylor swift?????????_

He choked out a sob from his bitten lips and threw the phone back on the floor.

He was a terrible person, a terrible fucking boyfriend, and he hated himself at the moment. He was sure Louis hated him right now as well and it only made things worse. He opened the windows to try and get some more air, but his head was swimming. Louis never wanted to see him again.

He felt like he was going to pass out.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

He felt like rubbing his skin open and escaping it.

_Tick, tick, tick, tick; oh no, oh no._

His knees wobbled and he had to sit back down. The room was getting blurry in front of him and he was slowly running out of tears. He was hyperventilating, his head was spinning, he didn’t know what to do with himself and he was shaking uncontrollably.

The sun started setting.

He couldn’t do this alone. He couldn’t stay alone right now.

_I know you’re mad at me, but I can’t breathe and you’re the only one I have. -H_

_I need you. -H_

He texted desperately.

He laid down on the floor, closing his eyes.

A text came back a minute later, but he had already passed out.

_im coming_

He woke up slightly disoriented, buried in the heavy hotel sheets. He stirred slightly, not entirely sure if he had managed to get in the bed himself.

“He sent you so many messages!” he was startled by the hushed voice coming from the other side of the room.

Louis was here.

“You know I can’t check my phone when I’m with her,” Louis continued quickly. Harry rolled over slowly, and opened one eye to glance at him. Louis was leaning against the wall, eyebrows furrowed, speaking to someone on the phone.

“You should’ve come and check on him! He was passed out on the floor by the time I got here.”

Harry shut his eyes tightly. He bit his lip.

Louis came back. Louis came back last night and found him there.

Harry tried to stifle a sob, but Louis heard him. His eyes flew to Harry’s face, and he quickly hung up.

“Hazza,” Louis rushed to kneel by the bed.

Harry covered his face with his hands, crying.

“Bambi, shhh, I’m here,” Louis’ hands were touching him, and his voice was so quiet, so soothing, and it only made Harry cry harder.

“I love you,” he whimpered after his sobs died down a little bit. He tried to sit up and threw his arms around Louis’ neck, pulling him down, making him yelp in shock. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you, ‘m sorry.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Louis whispered into his hair and Harry shook his head.

“I was being an idiot,” he whispered back and heard Louis chuckle.

“A little bit,” he could hear the smile in his voice, he said it so softly, “but I love you. I was terrified when I got here.”

“No one was answering my texts and I got worked up,” Harry leaned back and sniffled.

“I’m sorry,” Louis said again. He put his hand on Harry’s cheek, his thumb tracing his lips. “You know I would never cheat on you, right?”

Louis was his favourite person in the entire world.

“It wasn’t really a date. With Taylor. And I’m sorry I hadn’t told you about it before,” he said quietly, playing with his fingers.

“It’s alright. We’re alright, yeah?”

He bit his lip again and nodded with a soft smile. “I love you.”

Louis smiled at him brightly. “I love you too. And I’m never leaving you alone again, ever.”

Harry wanted to reply, but Louis shushed him, climbing into the bed next to him. It wasn’t like Harry actually wanted to protest, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can check out the moodboard or reblog [here](https://peggyschuylerbasically.tumblr.com/post/642464476619309056/falling) :)


	7. to be so lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis, Zayn, Liam and Niall are frat boys who throw great parties and Harry is the best friend who always comes with a guitar and sleeps in Louis’ room. Harry is pouty and Louis is an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's day! <33
> 
> tags: idiots to lovers, fluff, slight angst? ig, bed sharing, alcohol, frat boy!louis, getting together, drunk confessions

“Is Harry coming tonight?” Niall asks, gathering all the alcohol bottles on the kitchen counter. Louis scoffs.

“Please, of course he is,” he says with a grin, “he would miss us too much.”

“Yeah, us,” Liam walks into the kitchen with an armful of red solo cups. Niall bursts out laughing and Louis sticks out his tongue at them.

“You’re just sad you’re not gonna have a pretty boy in your bed tonight,” he says. The boys give each other a look and roll their eyes.

“Ask him out,” Liam says, like he has at least a million times before, ever since they became Harry’s friends. Louis shakes it off.

Or, kind of.

“Come on, Payno, he’s my friend,” Louis shakes his head and leaves the room.

“He’s my friend, and he never sleeps in  _ my _ bed,” he hears Niall mutter on the way out.

/////

By the time he decides to actually join the party, the house is full and the music is too loud to ignore anymore. He makes his way downstairs, passing Stan making out with yet another girl and like a dozen other couples he doesn’t know until he’s finally in the living room, and there he is.

He has his guitar next to him, as always, he’s sitting on the armrest next to Niall and they’re laughing uncontrollably at something Zayn’s saying. He’s wearing a white shirt and the same old pair of brown chelsea boots and he has a ridiculous hat on and his hair looks so nice. His dimples on display, eyes twinkling, he looks like a miracle.

“Tommo!” Zayn yells and Harry’s head snaps towards him.

“Louis!” He gets up, bouncing towards him and kissing his cheek. “Can I drop my stuff in your room?” He asks, smiling at him sweetly.

“As if you had to ask,” Louis rolls his eyes, squeezing Harry’s arm and walking up to the other guys.

“When did he get here?” he asks casually, snatching a cup from Niall’s hand. Niall protests, but Louis ignores him. He doesn’t know what the hell Niall’s drinking, but it’s pretty disgusting. He pushes back a grimace and drinks it anyway. Just out of spite.

“On time, like always,” Niall grumbles, folding his arms across his chest. Louis hums.

“He looks pretty,” Zayn grins at him, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up, Zee,” he snaps.

“You don’t think I look pretty?” he turns to look at Harry standing behind him with a pout on his lips, but a playful spark in his eyes.

Louis gives him a shrug, “Can’t let you get too confident, Styles, can we?” Harry grins at him, walks over to them and plops back down on the armrest. He picks up the guitar, throws a charming wink into the crowd around them and starts playing.

Louis is  _ not _ in love with him.

/////

They get lost in the crowd after a while. Harry hurts his finger on a string and he disappears with a pout on his quest to find a band-aid. The other boys scatter away, now that they have no guitar to sing along to.

Louis plays beer pong with a bunch of people, makes a couple of stupid bets and then somehow still finds himself with three twenty dollar bills in his pocket that he’s pretty sure weren’t there before. He sees some guys jump fully clothed into the pool and before his drunk brain even tries to imply that’s a good idea he walks back inside. 

“Loueh!” 

If Louis thought he was drunk before, compared to Niall he looks practically sober. 

“Loueh. I lost my beer, mate.” Niall says sadly, standing next to him and laying his head on Louis’ shoulder.

“That’s sad. I think you’ve had enough, though,” Louis replies, patting his back. 

Niall’s frown deepens and he shakes his head. “My beer, Loueh. M’beer,” he says and walks away. Louis stands there for a moment, a little confused, before deciding that he’s also had enough and making his way up to his room.

He opens the door, slowly, hoping no random couple has decided to crash on his bed. He has no energy to tell them to get the fuck out and he really wants to go to sleep. Luckily, apart from the suspicious alcohol smell, the room is empty. He closes the door, turns off the lights, gets under the covers and tries to block out the loud music and pray the inevitable hangover away.

He’s almost asleep, when he hears the door open quietly, and someone shuffles inside. He groans, rolling over, squinting at the light coming from the hallway. The person lifts his covers and gets into bed with him. Long limbs, long hair, apple scented shampoo. 

Harry. Of course.

Louis lifts his arm and lets him snuggle under it.

“Louuu,” Harry whines quietly. Louis grumbles.

“LouLou,” Harry whispers, pushing his nose into Louis’ shoulder and giggling.

Louis was under the covers this whole time, but he only now realises how cold he actually was before. Harry’s like on fire, each inch of his skin melting into Louis’, and Louis isn’t sure if he wants to scoot away or sink into it further. He runs his fingers up and down Harry’s arm.

“Harry,” he whispers back, making the other boy burst into more giggles.

“I love youuu,” Harry says after he calms down a little.

Louis’ hand pauses, then resumes. He sighs. “I love you too.” He stares stubbornly at the ceiling. He will  _ not _ look at Harry. But then Harry sniffles. And he can’t just not look at him.

“No,” Harry shakes his head.

“What?”

Harry presses a pout into Louis' neck, shaking his head some more. “No, you-” he hiccups, “you don’t love me. The right way.”

Louis frowns. “What do you mean, drunk baby?”

“Because, be- because,” Harry starts sadly, “You always say you love me, but... but then you never, you- never wanna kiss me.”

Louis’ breath hitches. His eyes shut close. 

“Harry,…” he doesn’t know what the right thing to say is.

Harry huffs. “I’m just so sad, you know?”

Louis squeezes his arm around Harry. His heart hurts. “I don’t want you to be sad.”

Harry sits up, one hand on Louis’ chest holding him up. “Kiss me, then.”

“Harry.”

“That’s what I thought,” he replies grumpily, turns away from Louis and pulls the covers tightly over himself. Louis stays still for a while, before Harry’s hand pulls Louis’ arm around himself. Harry pushes his back closer to Louis’ chest and falls asleep.

/////

He wakes up cold, with a killer headache. The other side of the bed is empty, and Harry’s stuff is gone. He groans, slowly getting up, rubbing his eyes. He gets downstairs shortly after 1pm, and hums happily to himself when he notices that the boys already managed to clean up all the mess from last night. He immediately beelines for the coffee machine, grabbing the biggest mug they had on the way. Liam and Zayn are in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, talking about who knows what, but stopping as soon as they see him.

“How did you sleep?” Zayn asks with a cheeky grin. Louis doesn’t even look at him, just sends a groan his way. The boys share a confused look.

“Harry’s still asleep?” Liam questions, when it’s obvious Louis isn’t going to say anything else.

“Harry left,” he says curtly, cursing as he spills sugar all over the counter.

“What? When?”

“Don’t know. He was gone when I woke up,” he says with a shrug.

“That’s weird,” Liam says. Louis shoots him a glare. “I mean, he was pretty excited to get to your room last night. We were expecting… you know, something to happen.”

“Yeah, well, something certainly did happen,” Louis murmured quietly, staring into his coffee with a deep frown.

Zayn chuckled. “Wow, Tommo, are you bad enough to scare him away? Thought he was so into you that it would be impossible.”

Louis rolled his eyes, looking up at the boys looking at him questioningly. He sets the mug down on the counter and buries his head in his hands. “He asked me to kiss him.”

“Huh?”

“He said he loves me. Wanted me to kiss him.” he says louder, sighing.

Liam slaps a hand across his mouth, and Niall comes barging in. “Finally!” he screams, making them all flinch and glare at him.

“I started thinking you two will keep dancing around each other forever, oh my god,” Zayn laughs, shaking his head. Louis picks up his head, looking at them with a quirked eyebrow.

“I couldn’t kiss him, are you kidding?” he says incredulously. Liam’s hand drops from his mouth, their jaws hanging open. They all stare at him with wide eyes. He squirms on his spot, looking down.

“You- what?!” Liam says after a while. “What the fuck, Louis?”

“I can’t, okay? He’s like our little brother, I can’t just- do that!” he reasons, and he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince here – the boys that he’s sensible, or himself that he’s not a fucking coward.

Niall splutters. “Louis, he’s literally in love with you. He’s been enamored with you ever since he met you.”

“But-”

“Louis, you are in love with him,” Zayn interrupts him. Louis gapes at him. “You do realise that, right?”

Louis stays quiet. His mind is rushing. Maybe he should have kissed him, after all. But- no, no, they were drunk, that wouldn’t be right. Although, Harry did ask-

He’s an idiot. And he’s in love with Harry Styles.

Fuck.

“Fuck,” he groans, dropping his head back into his hands. Liam rolls his eyes and walks over to him, stroking his back. “Do you think he’s mad at me?”

“Um,” Niall says, looking at Liam, “maybe he’s just a little embarrassed, you know. Rejection and all that.”

Louis looks at Liam helplessly, and Liam glares at Niall. “Real reassuring, Niall,” he grits through his teeth.

Niall shrugs. “Just sayin’, mate.”

Louis hides his face in Liam’s neck.

/////

Harry doesn’t call. Or text. Or visit.

And Louis knows that he could, but he can't bring himself to do so. He feels pathetic.

Two weeks later, they’re having another party.

“Is Harry coming tonight?” Niall asks, a little sheepishly, and all Louis can do is give a pouty shrug in return. Niall pats his back and goes back to his video game.

“You should’ve called him,” Zayn points out, cursing when Niall wins for the third time.

“I was trying to give him space,” Louis says weakly.

“Well not to be an ass, but that never works out well in rom-coms,” Niall says seriously and shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth. Louis frowns.

“Hey,” Zayn says softly, “it’s going to be fine. You two are like... meant to be.” Louis rolls his eyes at him.

“Besides,” Zayn adds with a smirk, “I’m positive he’ll come. He totally misses me.”

Louis really loves his friends.

/////

He’s not having fun. He is grumpy, and annoyed at every couple trying to make out on top of him on the couch and he is disgustingly  _ sober _ . He tried dancing for a while, but the hands on him only made him feel more sick, so he quietly sneaked away.

He’s leaning against a wall, looking at his phone, trying his best to ignore his surroundings and the drunk people bumping into him. He scrolls through his Instagram, rolling his eyes at Nick who posted a ton of blurry pictures from the back yard.

“Tommo,” Zayn speaks beside him suddenly, making him jump.

“For God’s sake, Zee,” he gasps, “thanks for the heart attack.”

“Sorry, man,” Zayn chuckles, “you just look so lonely here.”

Louis scoffs. “I think I have more than enough company.” He nods towards the living room packed with people laughing, grinding, and making out. Zayn rolls his eyes.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” he glances at the empty plastic cup in Louis’ hand. Niall pushed it towards him a few hours ago, but he quickly poured it out – there’s no way he’s going to trust Niall’s taste in drinks ever again – and filled it with water. Coke seemed too much at that moment. “Or drinking?”

“I don’t feel like it,” he shrugs.

Zayn sighs. “Listen, mate.” He yanks the cup from Louis’ weak grip, pulls him away from the wall. “Stop moping and go get something to drink. You’re making me depressed.”

Louis whines, but Zayn shoots him a look so he listens. He pushes through the crowd to get to the kitchen.

“Nooo, Niall,” a familiar voice whimpers, making Louis halt. He stops right in front of the room, eyes wide. He doesn’t know why he’s scared – he should just walk in. It’s his own house.

“Look, he’s not having a good time, I’m sure he’d appreciate seeing you here.” Niall replies, and well, Louis can’t just not say anything to that.

“Actually, I am enjoying myself just fine,” he says, finally walking in. He doesn’t know why he said it. He knows it’s not true. It’s just something about people talking about his feelings that makes him super defensive.

Harry looks at him, startled. His pupils are blown and  _ oh _ , this boy is completely  _ wasted _ already. He looks down bashfully. “Hi, Lou.”

“Hey, Harry,” Louis replies carefully, he can’t look away from Harry’s flushed cheeks.

Niall clears his throat loudly, awkwardly. “I’ll- leave you two to… um, yeah.” He says, fleeting.

They stay alone, standing opposite each other. Neither of them dares to move. The music is a bit more quiet than in the living room, and Louis feels like Harry must hear his heart all the way across the room. He has a million things to say, and at the same time, he feels like his mouth is sewn shut.

Harry sobs. Louis’ head shoots up.

“Haz,” he whispers, still not moving.

“I’m sorry,” Harry cries.

“Haz, what-”

“I- you’re mad at me!” he sobs loudly, rubbing his eyes furiously.

“Wh- of course not!” Louis gasps. He should’ve called him before.

“You are! Because, because of-” Harry bites his lip, eyes wet.

“Baby, I am not mad at all,” Louis tries to explain.

“But you still didn’t want to talk to me. You still don’t wanna kiss me,” his tone was so sad, but still so accusatory.

“Come on, it’s not about that, baby, you just… you always-” he struggles to find words and Harry-

Harry runs away.

/////

“Where did he go?” He runs up to Niall. 

“What did you say to him?” 

“Nothing! He just left!” Louis says desperately.

“I think he went home,” Niall says, looking sadly at Louis. “But hey, he was just a little upset. You can call him and talk once he’s home. And less drunk.”

“Niall, he’s really drunk. What if something happens to him? What if he-”

“Lou, calm down, he’s an adult.” Niall says, trying to calm him down.

“But you  _ know _ Harry. Anything could happen.” Louis really wants Niall to understand this. He would be happier if Harry never went home by himself, let alone when he was drunk like this.

“Louis. He’s going to be okay. Go lay down, you can talk to him in the morning.” Niall says, and Louis thinks he’s being way too calm for such a stressful situation. Niall grabs him by the shoulders, turns him around, pushes him towards the stairs, slapping his bum playfully in the process.

Once he’s in his room, away from the people and the smell and the noise, he calms down a little. He takes his shoes off and lays down. The sooner he’ll go to sleep, the sooner the morning will come. He closes his eyes with a shaky breath.

He keeps tossing and turning, groaning when a song plays particularly loudly downstairs, or when someone bangs on his door. Safe to say, he doesn’t sleep. After a while – it could’ve been minutes, could’ve been hours – he gives up and reaches for his phone.

The screen lights up, a notification staring back at him. A voicemail. A voicemail from Harry. 

Louis has never clicked on something this quickly in his life. 

“Hey Louuuuuu,” Harry giggles into the phone. “Wait. No. No laughing, serioussss,” he pauses, before giggling again.

Louis sits up on his bed.

“I know you are mad at me right now,” Harry continues, sniffling. Louis groans quietly. 

_ I’m not mad _ , he wants to say.

“I know-” he hiccups, “I know you don’t feel the same way, I know you don’t wanna kiss me, or, or cuddle me the same way I want to, or- or, or other stuff…”

Louis needs to close his eyes.

“And I know you don’t wanna have this conversation with me,” Harry just keeps going, he giggles or sniffles in between his words, and Louis wishes he was sitting next to him, so he could hug him, so he could tell him that none of that is actually true.

“But you- you keep calling me ba- baby, and I just hate it so much. And I love it, and then I hate myself for loving it, because... I know you’re just trying to be my friend. And I know that you like me,” Louis can’t tell what’s breaking more, Harry’s voice or his own heart. His eyes start watering. “I listen to you when you talk, you know? You- you know, Lou?”

“I know,” Louis finds himself whispering, “fuck, I know.”

“But I just hate it. And I- I hate those stupid parties, and sleeping in your stupid bed- and then I, I have to leave and come here and just… be so lonely.” 

Louis gets up, puts his shoes on, grabs his jacket. He rushes down the stairs, holding his phone to his ear. His eyes find Niall in the crowd, nodding his head towards the door. Niall is probably too drunk to comprehend what he’s trying to tell him, but he grins at him anyway and sends him thumbs up.

“And I told myself,” Harry’s still sobbing, and Louis is surprised he hasn’t ran out of breath yet, “I told myself that I wouldn’t bring it up to you, because you’re lovely and pretty and so amazing and I am so glad to be your friend. But I was  _ drunk _ , Lou. I was drunk and you were there and you looked so nice and I just couldn’t help myself. You were- you were dancing with someone the whole night and you didn’t dance with me  _ once _ and I was so jealous and upset, so I just-”

Louis thanks God that he wasn’t drinking as he’s unlocking his car, and rushing inside and pulling out of the driveway.

“Now you’re mad at me and this just isn’t  _ fair _ .” Harry whines.

He spends the entire ride cursing each meter that separates the house from Harry’s place. He damns every red light and pedestrian that gets in his way, and logically he  _ knows _ that Harry’s alright. He knows he is safe and sound, probably in his bed, he’s just a little sad, and therefore Louis doesn’t need to get to him as quickly as possible, still by the time he’s in front of Harry’s door his heart is beating impossibly fast and he’s totally out of breath.

He considers knocking, but he knows – and disapproves, but Harry doesn't listen to him – that Harry always leaves his door unlocked, and also that when he’s upset, he likes to bundle himself up in blankets and not move for hours. So he just walks in.

“Hazza?” he calls quietly into the dark flat. He hears no reply, so he takes his shoes off and trails into the bedroom. Harry is under the covers, just a small sad lump of fabric on the bed, shaking with small sobs.

“Baby,” he whispers, trying not to scare him. Harry flinches anyway, the shaking stops.

“Go away,” he croaks, squirming a little, as if trying to bury himself deeper into the blankets. Louis notices a bunch of clothes scattered across the floor, spots the flowery pattern that he saw Harry wearing at the party. He cringes at the thought of Harry coming home and carelessly throwing his clothes off to get to the bed as quickly as possible. Harry always makes sure all his shirts are neatly folded on his chair.

He sits at the end of Harry’s bed. “I’m not mad at you,” he starts.

Harry’s quiet for a moment. “You’re just saying that,” he whispers then.

“I am not. I could never be, you know why?” Louis says, putting his hand gently on what he assumes must be Harry’s ankle. Harry whimpers at the contact and pulls the covers down a little, bunching them up under his nose.

“Why?”

Louis takes a deep breath. “I could never be mad at you, because… you’re my favourite person on the planet, and I love you.”

Harry lets out a soft noise, then furrows his eyebrows. “No,” he whines, obviously still tipsy, still upset.

“I do. And not- not just the way you said before. I love you in a way that makes me wanna hold you and never let go. In a way that makes me wanna kiss you until you can’t breath and touch you and, and- I am not mad at you. I’m an idiot,” he talks quickly, letting out all the things he wanted to say this whole time.

“I love you, in a way that makes me light up every time I spot you sitting on our couch with your guitar and silly hats and ugly shirts. And I love you so much that when I dance with other people and their hands touch me it makes my skin crawl, and when you sleep in my stupid bed I lay awake and stare at the ceiling because I’m worried that if I let myself sleep and lose control I will just hold you against me so tightly you’ll get hurt or freaked out and you won’t want to sleep next to me any more and I love you so much it makes me scared.”

Harry’s tears are wetting the bed sheets. “I’ve felt so lonely this whole time,” he sobs. “I spent so long waiting for you to hold me like that so I could feel more like a person for once.”

“You are a person Harry. The best person, my person.” Harry’s body relaxes a little. Louis crawls up to him and lays down, pressing his body against Harry’s, arms around his torso, leg thrown across his, burying his face in Harry’s curls.

“I love you,” Harry whispers, “even though you are an idiot.”

Louis laughs. “I’m glad you got something from my long emotional rant.”

“You’ll be here when I wake up, right?”

“Of course,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of Harry’s neck.

“Never stop kissing me,” Harry mumbles, slowly falling asleep, heart calming down a little with Louis curled around him. “I love you.”

“I love you, baby.” Louis says.

“I actually like it when you call me baby.” Harry manages to say before passing out. Louis smiles fondly against Harry’s hair.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can check out the moodboard or reblog [here](https://peggyschuylerbasically.tumblr.com/post/643120455771963392/to-be-so-lonely) :)


	8. she

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A woman who's just in his head, and she sleeps in his bed while he plays pretend."
> 
> or Harry sometimes feels like a boy, and sometimes he doesn’t

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: emotional hurt/comfort, very briefly referenced smut, genderfluid harry, supportive louis, gender dysphoria, internalized transphobia, negative thoughts?, self discovery 
> 
> Harry doesn't use proper terminology, that's because he is not sure what is going on with him and has done no research on the topic at this point in the story.
> 
> Since I am writing about a non cis character and I myself am cis, I had this work checked by friends of mine who are not. I hope I did it justice but I am open to criticism.

He cleans out the bathroom first.

Louis is a messy guy and he always leaves his stuff scattered on all available surfaces, even after all their arguments, or just the one, over and over again. So he picks up all the clothes Louis couldn’t be bothered to pick up last night, and arranges all the bottles on the shelves. Then arranges them again. Even if his whole house were to be a mess, Harry is going to have a neat bathroom.

He sets a bag down on the counter and sits down in front of the mirror. He’s being extra gentle – Louis’s still asleep and he really doesn’t want to wake him up, not right now. He starts unpacking. A bunch of lipsticks, eyeliners, mascaras, and something that could either be a really boring eyeshadow palette or a really funky contour palette. He looks down at all the things, and stops.

Does he know what he’s doing? Does he really?

He looks at himself in the mirror, cringing. He has these dreams sometimes; a fantasy, you could say. He’s had them for a while now, and they always have him so confused. Scared, almost.

In the dreams his jaw is rounder and his eyes are more gentle, his hands are softer and his voice is higher, and he dances around their house in flowy dresses with Louis’ hands around his waist. And everything is  _ almost _ the same but everything is  _ different _ .

He thinks about how much he liked his long hair he had to cut off. He thinks back to the lingerie Louis got him for their anniversary last year, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

(“It’s a joke, baby,” Louis had laughed back then at Harry’s shocked expression when he had found the soft pink fabric in the bag.

He put it on anyway, after they’d decided to go to bed that night. Best orgasm he’d ever had. They never mentioned it again, but Harry still thought about it sometimes.)

His fingers wrap around a small plastic bottle – a foundation. He opens it, pouring a bit out on his palm. Definitely not his shade. He hesitates, his hands halfway to his face, and looks at himself again.

“Just see what it looks like,” he thinks, smearing the thing all over his face. He’s moving slowly, trying his best to do it right. He doesn’t think it’s working. He picks up a mascara, careful not to stab himself in the eye, getting it all over his eyelids in the process. His hands are trembling, so is his bottom lip. He grips the edge of the counter.

His mind is screaming at him. “What are you doing? What on Earth are you doing, look at yourself –”

“You alright?” a groggy voice behind him makes him flinch. He looks at Louis in the mirror. Louis’s wearing Harry’s favourite pyjama pants that hang low on his hips and are too long for his legs, his hair is a complete mess, but he still looks so hot leaning against the doorframe, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Harry sobs.

Louis’ head shoots up, looking at Harry worriedly. Harry’s trying to keep his head down. He really doesn’t want Louis to see him like this. He wishes  _ he _ wouldn’t have to see himself like this.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Louis squats down next to him. When Harry shakes his head, Louis’ fingers reach up and gently tuck a short strand of Harry’s hair behind his ear. His hand stalls for a second, looking at the mess on Harry’s face, the corner of his lips turns up a little at the sight. “Don’t cry, you’re ruining your mascara.”

Harry whimpers, turning away a little. “I can’t do things right.”

Louis frowns. “Of course you can.”

“No,” he whines, “I can’t. I mean – look at me. I can’t even... can’t even… be a – be a proper – boy.”

“Hey,” Louis said soothingly, brushing his fingers through Harry’s hair, “you’re amazing. You’re my boy.”

Harry looks at him desperately, eyelashes stuck together with tears and sloppy mascara. “But, I’m not, though. I am not a proper boy, because – I just – I feel like I never can be. And I like wearing weird clothes and I can’t fix cars and, and like, build a house, or whatever it is that men even do. And then I can’t be a proper girl either, and this isn’t fair at all. Because my hair is gone and my chest is too small and my face isn’t pretty enough and I can’t even put makeup on, and I am not a proper girl. Just let me – let me be at least one thing, properly.”

Louis makes a confused little sound, but his fingers never stop playing with Harry’s short curls.

“Just – just sometimes, you know? I wish I was… your girl, instead?” he says, throat tight from crying.

“Yeah?” Louis asks quietly.

“But – that... how would, how would that even work? Is that even a thing?” Harry says, rubbing his eyes with a pout, spreading the black all over his face.

“I don’t know. I’m sure it is.” Harry looks at Louis, eyes big and red and glossy. “And if it’s not, who cares? We’ll make it work.”

“You’re gay, Louis. You want to find a boy and fall in love and live with him and be gay together, and you – you’re not gonna love me like this,” he cries. 

Louis starts tearing up as well. He looks at all the makeup on the counter. He picks up a golden tube – a lipstick. He chucks the lid somewhere on the floor, and turns to Harry. He sniffles, taking Harry’s face gently in his hand and turning him to look at him. Harry avoids his eyes as Louis traces Harry’s mouth with the tube, spreading a dark red colour all over Harry’s cherry lips. He is no makeup guru, and it’s a little messy and a little ugly, but the sentiment is there. They are going to make it work.

“I love you,” Louis whispers. “I love you, and I’m never going to love somebody else, not like this.” Louis doesn’t know a lot about gender. Never questioned it, never had a reason to think about it. And he’s known Harry for years, he  _ knows _ Harry was always so – he was always...

They stare at each other. Seconds, minutes, hours. “You’re so pretty,” Louis says.

“You think so?” Harry whispers back, giggling a little. He knows his face is a mess right now. He also knows Louis is being serious. And he’s so in love with this boy. Their eyes are tracing each other’s faces, their hands finding each other, their fingers brushing over each other’s wrists.

“The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” Louis’s voice is so soft, so gentle, and Harry’s breath catches, he crumbles under Louis’ hands. “Come on, let’s fix that face of yours, shall we?”

“Louis, neither of us can do makeup.”

Louis looks at him in mock offence. “First of all, how dare you? Second of all, we have to learn somehow.”

Harry catches his wrist before he can grab another tube off the counter. “We’re… we’re gonna be alright, yeah? No matter what I – who I am?”

“Angel, I’m never leaving you. I’ve been here forever, and I’m here now, and I’ll be here once you figure it out, and then forever after that.”

“I love you,” Harry says, and he finally feels like he’s going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can check out the moodboard or reblog [here](https://peggyschuylerbasically.tumblr.com/post/643729687013670913/she) :)


	9. sunflower, vol. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Harry really wanted to get flowers (Real flowers. Like the ones that grow and smell nice and stuff, Louis -_-) and one time he actually got them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: fluff, lots of fluff actually, domestic fluff, implied/referenced smut, idk this feels like suspiciously few tags, what else is there, flowers, actual flowers, but also not actual flowers, louis is being a flower-tease, harry is also sick at one point, smol larry, but then they grow up, and are a big larry

🌻 vol. 1 🌻

“You like her! You should ask her out!” Harry clapped gleefully, giggling. Louis was cuddled up next to him, smiling into his curls.

Liam groaned. “Noo, she’s too cool. I’d just embarrass myself.”

“Nonsense,” Harry scoffed, rubbing his nose with his finger – it was one of the first habits Louis’d noticed, and he was completely enamoured – before continuing. “You are cool too. She totally thinks so too.”

“I don’t know,” Liam said sheepishly. Harry poked Louis' side, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Louis cleared his throat.

“Yeah, lad, just go and talk to her. Get a date or summat.” he said, looking at Harry for approval. Harry beamed at him happily.

“Well, I’m not really, like, romantic or anything,” Liam always spoke quickly, more than anyone Louis’d ever talked to and even more so when he was nervous.

Harry hummed. Louis couldn’t take his eyes off of him. Harry was in his element, it was his time to shine. He started rambling about great romantic gestures from romance films and ideal dates.

“In  _ my _ opinion, getting flowers is the best thing ever,” Harry said dreamily. If Liam was the fastest talker Louis knew, Harry was definitely the slowest. His voice was deep and slow as molasses, and Louis wanted him to talk Louis’ ears off. 

“Flowers are lovely and it’s just so cute and romantic,” the curly boy finished, leaning against Louis and kissing his cheek with a smile. 

“Alright, alright,” Liam said, giving Louis an amused look. “I’ll think about it. It’s almost Valentine’s day, I could figure something out.”

“Yes!” Harry yelled happily, high-fiving Louis, who had almost no idea what the whole conversation had been about.

/////

"Hazza if you don’t open the door this instant I will go spend Valentine’s day with Zayn,” Louis yelled through the front door. Harry was rushing to put his shoes on while fixing his hair one more time to make sure he looked decent.

As if anything could make Louis not like him anymore.

“Haaaaarryyyy,” Louis whined, and Harry slammed the door open quickly.

“Hi.”

Louis stopped and looked at him. “Hey there, Curly,” he said with a grin. 

“You look pretty,” Harry said, shyly, almost.

Louis’ grin widened. “You always look pretty.”

Harry smiled. “I got you a gift!” He tossed a small bag towards Louis.

“ _ You _ are a gift,” Louis said softly, grabbing the bag with a smirk.

Harry’s cheeks turned pink, he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, failing to hide his grin, his dimples giving him away. Louis took out a dark green scarf with a small excited sound.

“Hazza! That’s so great!” 

“Like it?” Harry asked with wide eyes.

“Love it! Look how cool I look!” Louis eagerly wrapped it around his neck, the scarf not matching what he was currently wearing at all. Harry pretended to swoon dramatically, just to make Louis laugh.

“I have something for you, too,” Louis said after twirling around and observing his gift enough. He bent down, and picked up something quite big and colourful from where he had set it down on the floor before, and Harry held in a soft gasp, when he saw some flowers, and then Louis was holding them towards him and-

They were paper. It was a paper bouquet.

Which. It was amazing. Absolutely lovely, but.

A paper bouquet.

“Louisss,” Harry whined.

“You don’t like it? It’s immortal. You know, like my love for you.” Louis said teasingly.

Harry pouted up at him. “Aw, that’s so sweet.”

“Also, didn’t want you to be upset once you killed them all.”

Harry slapped Louis’ chest lightly. “You don’t trust my flower-dad abilities!”

“Sorry, baby, you know I’m right.” Louis shrugged, planting a sweet kiss on Harry’s pouty lips.

“I’m going to find a vase for them.” Harry said, trying not to smile, but Louis pinched his bum when he turned away and he couldn’t stop giggling.

🌻 vol. 2 🌻

His birthday was always around the time Niall left to visit family. It could have been just because that’s how it always worked out, but Harry suspected that it was just so Niall didn’t have to buy him a present, only send a sweet short text and return a week later to take Harry out to eat (and probably let Harry pay anyway). Harry could probably imagine a nicer present, but that was Niall, and he still loved him despite all his flaws. At least he could cook really well.

It was his birthday, and of course, he was home alone. Louis had sent him a very long, very cheesy text at midnight and was supposed to come over tomorrow, and he had facetimed his mum and Gem for 3 hours earlier that day. He was completely ready to get cosy on a sofa, watch some shows and drink wine, when his doorbell rang.

He huffed, standing up, stumbling over the fluffy blanket he had wrapped himself in earlier and walking over to the door.

“Happy birthday!” Louis was standing there with a wide grin on his face, arms behind his back, looking super proud of himself. Looking super hot. He had his hair styled into a quiff and his face was glowing.

“Louis, what...”

“You didn’t really think I would let you spend your birthday alone, did you?” Louis asked seriously. Harry threw his arms around him, and pulled him inside. 

“This is amazing! We can watch shows together the whole day, and then we can order a pizza!” he rambled excitedly, grabbing Louis’ hand as they made their way through the flat.

“We can do anything you want, baby,” Louis told him softly. “Also, I have something for you.”

Harry turned around quickly. “You got me a present?”

Louis scoffed. “Duh, it’s your birthday.”

“Gimme!” he clapped his hands. Louis grinned, pulling a box from behind his back, and handing it to Harry. Harry looked down at it curiously.

It was a box of chocolates, quite a big one as well. It made Harry smile. “Yummy. We’re gonna be so sick if we eat all of this, are you sure it was a good-” he opened the box. The chocolates were all rose-shaped.

Louis was barely holding in laughter. “Yummier than a bouquet, huh?”

Harry dropped the box on the table. “Louis, you’re so stupid.” He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, their lips pressing together harshly. Harry pushed Louis backwards until they fell down onto a sofa, giggling.

They didn’t manage to watch any shows that day. 

When Niall got home, he casually complained about a suspicious stain on one of the pillows, then just disappeared in his room with his typical nonchalance. 

🌻 vol. 3 🌻

Harry never got sick. It just didn’t happen. He would always laugh when Niall had to stay in bed, complaining about a sore throat, stuffy nose or aching head. He was quite confident in his invincible immune system. That’s why he really didn’t want to tell anyone when he woke up with a cold that morning.

“You really don’t appreciate your nose working properly, until it stops,” he grumbled, sniffling violently while he waited for the water to boil. “Stupid illnesses.”

He felt terrible, he was hot one moment, and freezing the other. His head hurt and his eyes were watering, his nose was red and he knew he looked absolutely miserable.

Niall walked into the kitchen, making Harry freeze on the spot. Niall was rubbing his face with his hand, bleached hair sticking out in all directions, yawning, not even covering his mouth. He stopped when he noticed Harry standing there, leaning against the counter and chuckled.

“Shit, mate, looking hot.”

Harry groaned. “Shu’up.”

“We should have some Strepsils in the bathroom,” Niall said. “Go get it. I’ll bring you your tea.”

“You’re the best,” Harry said sadly, moving carefully to the bathroom.

“I know,” he heard Niall yell on his way out.

/////

He woke up a few hours later to a hushed chatter down the hall.

“I told you not to come here! He’s like a grumpy ball of germs right now,” Niall was saying disapprovingly, followed by a chuckle.

Louis.

Harry stopped frowning immediately, sinking into the bedsheets with a sigh.

“I’ll be alright, Niall. Just wanted to give him a visit,” Louis replied, moving closer to Harry’s room. He closed his eyes quickly, just as Louis started opening the door. He could feel his bed dip, and Louis’ hand in his hair soon after.

“Awh,” he heard Louis coo, feeling his burning forehead. He scrunched his nose a little, opening his eyes.

“Hi, love,” Louis whispered, kissing his cheek. Harry whimpered.

“Louu,” his voice was rough and barely there, and it made him pout.

“Not feeling well, hm?” Louis said softly, pushing Harry’s bottom lip back in his mouth with his thumb. Harry sticked it right back out. Louis chuckled.

Harry made grabby hands in his direction. “Lou, cuddle?” He asked him with wide, glossy eyes. Louis got into the bed next to him, bringing Harry closer to him gently.

“Wait, I brought you something,” Louis said suddenly, making Harry jump a little. Harry perked up a little at that, always excited to get a gift. (Always excited to get flowers, although…)

“Look!” Louis was holding a flower crown, one of the store bought ones, with a bunch of nameless light blue flowers. Harry would have normally groaned, or rolled his eyes, but he was poorly, and the flowers were the same colour as Louis’ eyes and it looked really pretty. He liked wearing flowers in his hair.

“It’s blue,” he said instead, with a smile. Louis grinned.

“Yeah,” He laid back down, cuddling up to Harry after placing the flower crown on top of Harry’s messy curls. “I hope you’re ready to take care of me later if you get me sick now.”

Harry just nuzzled Louis’ throat with his nose, humming, before falling back asleep. 

🌻 vol. 4 🌻

“Hazza,” an elbow nudged him, interrupting a very vivid dream about a chicken that- 

“Hazzaaaa,” Louis whined next to him, arms around his waist shaking him gently.

“Wha’?” he grumbled, his eyes stubbornly closed.

“Wake up. Wanna tell you something,” Louis whispered, squeezing his sides.

“What time’s it?” It couldn’t be morning yet. He was way too tired still. And the room was dark.

“Don’t know. Three?” Louis replied so carelessly as if Harry wasn’t planning his murder in his head for waking him up as they spoke. “I can’t sleep, wanna tell you something.”

“Why can’t you tell me later. You know, at a normal human hour?” He felt Louis shaking his head.

“Can’t wait. Wanted to tell you yesterday but I got scared.”

Harry opened his eyes, sitting up. He looked down at Louis, who looked very disturbed that he suddenly found himself without a boy in his arms. He was blinking up at him with a pout.

“What did you do?” Harry asked, squinting. He knew he didn’t look as strict as he’d intended to. He could never, when it came to Louis.

“Nothing!” Louis said defensively. He turned around, switching on the little light on his nightstand. He took a minute getting untangled from the mess of sheets and got up. “I mean, I did  _ something _ , but it’s not like… a  _ bad _ something. I hope.”

“Louis.”

“You don’t trust me!” he said accusingly.

Harry sighed. “Okay, show me.”

Louis clapped his hands delightedly, took Harry’s and yanked him off the bed. Harry squeaked.

“I was cleaning,” Louis started, interrupted by Harry’s loud laugh. Harry slapped his hand over his mouth and nodded at him to continue, still grinning despite Louis’ unamused glare, “and I, um.”

They stopped in front of Louis’ dresser. Louis looked at it sheepishly, biting his lip. Harry was looking at him in anticipation.

“I, um, I emptied a drawer. You know, like, for you. Um,” he said, quietly, opening the second drawer, that was usually filled with a huge mess of Louis’ shirts.

Harry looked at him with wide eyes. “Louis…”

Louis was beaming at him, eyes disappearing behind the crinkles. 

“Louis, we spend so much time at each other’s places. I have half of my stuff here already,” Harry reminded him gently.

Louis groaned. “Come on, I’m trying to be romantic and shit. Make it, like, official.” He reached his arm around Harry, pinching his side. Harry squealed, trying to get away.

“Okay, okay. It’s lovely. I will bring even more clothes here to honor it,” he said solemnly.

“Well, actually,” Louis said, with a mischievous grin on his face. “I already started filling it for you.”

Harry finally took a proper look at the open drawer. In the corner, there was a folded shirt. Colourful, with a bunch of flowers on it, kind of ugly, exactly like Harry liked them. Harry smiled widely at Louis, pulling him closer and wrapping his arms around him.

“Thank you, I love you,” he whispered into Louis’ feathery hair, “but don’t think I haven’t noticed the flowery pattern.”

Louis burst out laughing, leaving Harry to fondly shake his head at him.

🌻 vol. 5 🌻

“Curly, I think we’re gonna drown in boxes,” Louis exclaimed dramatically, draping himself over the sofa standing in the middle of the room, still wrapped up in the plastic it came in.

“It’s because you have so many things,” Harry noted with a small grin, laughing at Louis when he let out an exaggerated gasp.

“How  _ dare _ you, Harold! I’m not the one who owns six pairs of the same boots.” Louis stood up, then promptly plopped back down, moving around a little until he got properly comfortable, pulling his legs up and leaning back with a triumphant smile. Harry shook his head and moved to sit down next to him.

They sat there for a while, silent, enjoying each other’s presence and the feeling of finally being there. Their own place. It was not a huge flat, but it was theirs, their first flat and the idea of finally living together, having a place where they can be alone and come back to every day was thrilling.

“Do we wanna keep the sofa right here?” Louis asked suddenly, staring ahead.

“Hmm,” Harry started, looking around, “Yeah, I think it’s quite a nice spot, innit?”

“Well, yeah.” Louis said. It was obvious he was thinking about something and Harry turned his head to look at him curiously. “It’s a pretty blank wall though, don’t you think?”

Harry looked back at the wall. It  _ was _ a little empty, he thought, but once they got more furniture, and brought the TV, it would look alright. He shrugged.

“Yeah, I think it is,” Louis insisted, getting up and disappearing down the hallway. Harry turned around to look his way, confused, then turned back to raise an eyebrow at the wall.

“Luckily for us,” Louis called from wherever he ran off to, “I bought something. ‘s gonna fix it.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Close your eyes, Harold,” Louis said theatrically. Harry complied reluctantly, covering his eyes with his hands for good measure. A couple of minutes, quiet curses and other suspicious noises later, Louis let out a happy hum.

“Tada!” he yelled, making Harry yelp. He looked up, and gasped.

“Oh my God, Louis,” he whispered, gaping at the painting now hanging crookedly on the wall. It was van Gogh’s Sunflowers, in a pretty wooden frame, decorating the white wall above the place where the telly was going to be.

“You like it?” Louis asked with a grin.

Harry got up, walking over to where Louis was standing with his arms up showing off the painting. He gently punched Louis’ chest. “It’s still just pretend-flowers, you twat.”

Louis made an offended face at him, shaking his head. “It’s Vincent van Gogh! I’m trying to decorate our new place, you ungrateful-”

Harry kissed his cheek quickly, making Louis shut his mouth. He sighed. “Alright, I forgive you, Harold. But you have to give me a proper kiss first.”

That wasn’t a bad deal at all.

🌻 vol. 6 🌻

The summer was very hot. When Harry woke up, the curtains were open, the other side of the bed was empty and the covers were on the floor.

Typical.

He got up, tugging on a random pair of boxers off the floor – Louis hadn’t done the laundry again. Also typical – and made his way to the kitchen. He could hear the music playing from the top of the staircase. 

Louis was standing by the stove, a spatula in hand, singing the lyrics along with ABBA under his breath, dancing a little, and Harry was in love. He was wearing Harry’s flower-patterned shirt and some old shorts that had a completely different vibe, but that was just the way Louis was. All the windows were open, the warmth from outside seeping in and the summer sun washing the whole house in gold.

Harry came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Louis and looking over his shoulder. He winced a little at the sight of the poor looking pancake, but then Louis hummed happily and so Harry just turned around and kissed his cheek.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Louis said, sinking back into Harry’s arms a little.

“Hii,” Harry sang in reply, “breakfast looking good.”

Louis scoffed, flipping the pancake clumsily, frowning at it as it fell apart. “It doesn’t wanna cooperate, Hazza.”

Harry chuckled. “Bad pancake.” Louis hummed.

One song stopped, and a different one started. A really slow, lovely one. Harry started swaying them absent-mindedly. He could feel Louis smile against his cheek. Harry sang quietly, and Louis turned off the stove and turned around in his arms.

“You look lovely today, Bambi,” he said with a big smile, one that made his eyes crinkle. He put his arms around Harry’s neck.

Harry turned them around slowly, grinning down at Louis. “I like your shirt.”

Louis rolled his eyes and harrumphed. “You’re ruining the moment,” he whispered, twirling Harry softly under his arm.

“I love you,” was all Harry said in return.

They stayed like that for a while, swaying to the rhythm, making slow circles around the room, Louis’ cheek pressed into Harry’s shoulder. A different, faster song started playing, but they didn’t seem to care at all.

“I have something for you,” Louis murmured, a few minutes later.

“What,” Harry whispered. Louis stepped back a little to look at him, then leaned back in to peck Harry’s lips softly and grabbed his hand tugging him into the backyard.

He had set up a garden table in a sunny spot, plates and cutlery and their fanciest wine glasses filled with orange juice, and in the middle was a vase.

“Lou,” Harry whispered.

“They’re real flowers, by the way,” Louis said into his skin, from where he was pressed firmly into Harry’s back, “I had to get up super early to get them.”

There were five sunflowers nestled in the vase, with a big bow tied around them, and it was not a huge thing or anything, except it kind of was for them, and Harry wanted to cry. “Lou.”

“I love you.” Louis said gently.

They ate their breakfast, talking, and giggling, and laughing, and whispering dirty jokes and secrets to each other. They washed the dishes and went back upstairs, picking clothes for each other (Harry liked to look chaotic, and also to make sure Louis looked presentable, so it just worked for them), getting dressed. Louis did Harry’s hair, playing carefully with each curl, then tying a headscarf around them. They washed their teeth together, laughing at each other in the mirror and squeezing toothpaste at the other.

Always so childish and domestic and in love.

Once the sunflowers died (“It’s NOT because I’m a bad flower-dad, Lewis!” “Whatever you say, love.”) Louis got him new ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can check out the moodboard or reblog [here](https://peggyschuylerbasically.tumblr.com/post/644369351509786624/sunflower-vol-6) :)


	10. canyon moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of all the scenarios that Louis considered might happen once he invites a complete stranger to his car, he never imagined “falling in love” was one of them.
> 
> or Harry's life sucks and Louis has a semi functional car and a liking for running away for a life long road trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags: road trip fic, fluff, smut, getting together, strangers to lovers, a bit of angst i suppose, hitchhiking, they both very much ignore stranger danger like dumbasses but it works out really great for them so who am i to judge

Louis doesn’t really want to disturb the boy, but he’s standing right in front of the coke bottle Louis wanted to grab. So, he taps his shoulder gently, but the boy startles anyway. He turns to look at Louis with wide eyes, phone pressed firmly against his ear.

Louis mouths a tiny ‘sorry’, and points to the shelves behind him. The boy gives him a quick nervous smile and moves away, still talking slowly into the phone.

“How do you expect me to get home now?” Louis can hear him ask, slight desperation in his voice. He keeps looking at the boy walking around the gas station for a second, then shakes his head and moves to pay.

He walks out to his car, the air hot and dry. It kind of makes him wish there was a pool nearby, but he knows that’s unlikely. He’s kind of in the middle of nowhere. He takes a few minutes to properly enjoy his sandwich before starting the car again.

He starts driving when he notices the same boy sitting on the side of the road. He looks him up and down briefly. The boy’s wearing jeans and a huge flannel shirt, he’s holding a small backpack to his chest, his chin resting on his folded arms, his eyebrows furrowed, and he’s looking off into the distance.

Louis thinks about it quickly.

“Taking hitchhikers is dangerous,” a voice in his head points out, “But he is cute. And he looks like a lost puppy. What could go wrong?”

He sighs, and pulls up to the boy. “Hey. Need a ride?”

The boy’s head shoots up. He is very jumpy, Louis notes. His cheeks are very pink, but Louis blames it on the heat. His curly hair is sticking to his forehead a bit as well.

“Um. I need to, uh, get to Chicago,” the boy says, the same slow tone he used when he was talking on the phone earlier. Louis thinks it might just be how he talks.

Chicago. Quite a bit away. Across the country.

But it’s not like Louis has anywhere to be.

He shrugs. “I can take you, if you want.”

The boy bites his lip. “I mean… are you sure? Where are you, like, going?”

“Anywhere, really,” Louis says, then cringes at how suspicious that must sound. “And I’m not a murderer.” He adds. Exactly what a murderer would say.

The boy shoots a look to the gas station across the road, then looks back at Louis. “I would really appreciate it.”

Louis nods. “Jump in. You can put your stuff in the back.”

The boy moves to stand up, revealing the camera hanging around his neck that was hidden by the backpack. “That’s okay,” he says shyly. “I don’t really have, uh, stuff.” He opens the passenger door, climbing in. He puts the backpack down next to his legs, then turns to put the seatbelt on.

Louis hums. “I’m Louis, by the way.”

“Harry,” the boy says. He does kind of look like a Harry, Louis thinks.

“Okay,” Louis mutters under his breath, then looks at Harry one last time. “Shall we?”

Harry nods, and Louis starts the engine again.

/////

Harry is a very quiet road trip mate. Louis can’t say he’s surprised, and it’s also not that he minds. It’s just an observation. He drops a random remark here and there, mentions a funny looking tree or the goddamn weather, but all he gets from Harry is a noise of acknowledgement.

“Where are you even coming from?” he decides to ask a few hours later, when the sun starts setting. Harry tears his eyes away from the window that he spent the entire ride looking at so far. He doesn’t say anything for a while, but Louis can feel his eyes on him.

“Where are  _ you _ coming from?” Harry asks instead of answering, then looks straight forward, like he’s scared that Louis will look his way and meet his eyes. Louis wants to tease him, something about answering questions with questions, or him asking first, but he feels like that’s not what Harry needs right now. He’s seemed so sad this whole time, or deep in thought.

He decides to let it go and just answer. “San Francisco. Went to pride.” Louis’s never been shy about his sexuality, he can’t see why he shouldn’t just say things how they are. Especially when he’s trying to get some information from Harry, he thinks it’s important to be honest. He can’t miss the way Harry’s head snaps towards him.

“Oh,” Harry says quietly, Louis almost misses it. “Um. I was on my way to Castro.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “‘m afraid that’s the other way, sunshine.”

Harry clears his throat. “Yeah, I- um I know, yeah.”

Louis bites the inside of his cheek. He didn’t mean to make it awkward. Not that it has been anything but that, so far. So he changes the topic. “It’s getting late. We should try finding a motel or something. You know, to spend the night.”

Harry looks a little anxious, looking down to check his watch, then looking out of the window, then back at Louis. “Yeah, okay.”

Louis nods, and they fall silent again.

By the time they get to a shabby looking motel, Harry managed to fall asleep, head resting against the window, one hand squishing his cheek. Louis kind of wants to poke it, but he is an adult who can control himself, so he just snorts quietly.

Louis wakes him up, shaking him gently until he blinks up at him, his eyes half-shut and tired. He gets out of the car, carefully cradling the camera in his arms, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and following Louis inside. Louis looks at Harry trailing behind him, all soft curls and sleepy eyes, then turns around to get them a room. He pays quickly, figures that Harry can pay him back tomorrow once he’s more conscious than he is right now.

Harry promptly chooses the bed closer to the door, and immediately takes off his shoes and the ridiculously big shirt, and gets under the covers. He murmurs a soft ‘thank you’ and falls back asleep.

Louis stares at him for a while. He’s quite pretty. He hugs himself in his sleep, and furrows his eyebrows, and Louis has a sudden urge to tuck him in properly. He turns around and closes his eyes.

/////

He wakes up to an empty motel room. The other bed is made, Harry’s things are gone, and he panics a little. He gets dressed quickly, throwing his stuff back into his back and runs out of the motel.

He gets to his car, and stops. Harry is sitting on the hood, his back facing Louis, his legs crossed. Louis sighs in relief – Was he worried he won’t get his money back, or that Harry disappeared? He’ll never know – and walks closer. Harry is holding the camera up to his face, trying to focus it on something in front of him.

Louis waits until Harry takes the picture, then speaks up. “Good morning.”

Harry jumps, turning around. “Hi, Louis.”

“I was worried you got lost,” he says. Harry blushes a little, and looks down at the camera. He doesn’t say anything.

“Soo,” Louis sways a little awkwardly on his feet, “let’s continue?”

Harry nods, jumping off the car to the passenger side and getting inside. Louis shrugs to himself and gets in as well. “Thank you.” Harry spoke up next to him. Louis turned towards him. Harry continued. “How much was the room? Um, not sure how much money I have left, but I want to pay you back, definitely.”

“Hey, man, it’s chill. You can, like pay me later. Or then pay for the next one. Or whatever.” Louis says calmly, eyes scanning Harry’s small backpack.

“I will pay you back, I will,” Harry promises, and Louis just smiles and starts the car.

He decides that he won’t suffer the awkward silence anymore, and he starts talking. He tells Harry all about the parade in San Francisco, about all the people and their stories, happy ones and sad ones alike.

At first, he feels like Harry isn’t even listening properly, looking out of the window, his mind seemingly far far away. But as the time goes on and they pass cities, towns, villages, and long planes of nothingness, he sees Harry turning his body towards him more and more. Looking at him with curious eyes, chuckling a little and making quiet shocked noises as Louis talks, encouraging him to keep going. He moves on to his friends, family, childhood stories, and Harry is listening to him eagerly. 

Louis is enjoying himself. He likes the sound of his own voice, like the egoistic little son of a bitch he is, and he has a lot of stories to tell. They manage like this for a while.

/////

Harry pays the next time they stop at a motel. He digs out a small wallet from the bottom of his backpack – a quite empty backpack, Louis notices. He doesn’t say anything, just pays for their food later. And for the next hotel room.

Another day on the road, the car’s AC is slowly giving out, and they are slowly dying, Harry takes out a leather bound notebook and starts fanning himself.

“So, there’s the two of them, and they literally look the same. When they were babies, I was panicking, because I couldn’t tell them apart and thought I was being a bad brother. Especially when Fizzy knew which one was which right away,” Louis keeps talking, trying to stubbornly ignore how much he’s sweating.

“You can tell them apart now?” Harry asks, and Louis’ eyes fly to his face. He isn’t used to him asking questions. Not that Harry doesn’t talk at  _ all _ , but the moments are rare. Louis suspects he’s been going through some sort of self discovery in the passenger seat, clutching his camera protectively.

Louis studies Harry’s face for a second, his cheeks pink, looking so  _ interested _ , Louis just grins at him. “Yeah, it got easier when they started growing up. Fizzy can suck it.”

Harry giggles and Louis is absolutely delighted. “But – and you’re definitely not ready for this – then me mum got pregnant  _ again _ .”

Harry gapes at him. “You have five siblings?”

Louis smirks. “Six, actually. They’re twins.”

“Second twins?”

“Yeah. Ernest and Doris. They’re tiny, I love them. They call me Achoo.” Louis says proudly.

Harry snorts gently. “Achoo?”

“Achoo,” Louis nods solemnly, “I used to pretend-sneeze a lot, it made them laugh. I was happy to be at least one twins’ favourite, you know. The name kinda stuck.”

“Incredible,” Harry says softly. Louis smiles at him.

The car jumps a little. Louis looks back ahead quickly, eyebrow raised. The car makes a suspicious noise, and Louis copies it, as if challenging it to misbehave. Harry huffs amusedly next to him.

They stop. In the middle of the road.

Oh no.

“Um,” Harry says hesitantly, and Louis curses quietly under his breath. He gets out of the car and opens the hood, leaning against it. Not that he expects to do something. He knows nothing about cars.

“Is everything okay?” Harry asks from his seat, eyes wide. 

“Eh,” Louis says, hands on his hips, looking down at all the car parts, hoping he’ll see something that’s very obviously in a wrong place or something, so he can fix it. Nothing. “Not sure, really.” He gets back in the car, turning the key, but nothing happens.

Harry scrunches his nose softly. “Probably not.” Louis chuckles a little sadly.

“Soo,” Louis starts, “we might have a slight problem.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, “it’s okay.”

“You’re not like…. in too much of a rush?”

Harry shakes his head. “I don’t think it really matters at this point. Whether I get home tomorrow or next month.”

“Good, that’s – that’s good,” Louis says, genuinely relieved. He wouldn’t want to get Harry in trouble. “Because it looks like we’re staying right here for a while.”

Harry looks out of the window, and shrugs. “That’s fine.” He looks at Louis sheepishly. “Would you mind, if I, um –” he points his thumb outside and lifts his camera.

“Of course not, go ahead,” Louis doesn’t know why he should mind Harry spending some time taking photos when they are stuck in the middle of nowhere for who knows how long. Harry smiles at him and gets out of the car. He goes to do his thing and Louis decides to take a nap.

When he wakes up with a soft groan, rubbing his aching neck, Harry is nowhere around. He thinks he should be used to Harry randomly disappearing while he’s asleep, except that he also thinks that he won’t ever be able to get used to that. There’s always a lot that can happen, in all the different places.

Before he can get out of the car to look around, he hears something move, and suddenly Harry’s head is in his window. 

“Hi, Lou!” Louis screams, jumping back a little bit, banging his head on the roof. Harry is leaning down from the top of his car, face upside down, his hair hanging down, grinning. “Oops, sorry.”

“Jesus Christ, Harry, what?” Louis groans, touching his head gently.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry. I was just excited to see you awake. ‘m bored,” Harry soothes him, clumsily climbing down, leaning against the window once he’s the right way up.

“It’s alright,” Louis grumbles, watching Harry climb in the backseat, “got any nice photos?”

Harry blushes a little bit and nods. He doesn’t add anything, and they are quiet for a while. Then- “Can you tell me some more stories, please?” Harry whispers into the silence. Louis eyes roam his face for a few moments and then he just hums, trying to think of the next story.

“So I was cast as Danny Zuko in our school play, right? – ”

/////

Harry talks incredibly slowly. Louis has noticed it before, but he didn’t realise it’s such a  _ thing _ . He thinks it’s very lovely to listen to. Especially when it’s dark outside like this, and they’re laying on the roof of his car, and Harry’s slow drawl is lulling him to sleep.

Well actually, he’s being kind of rude right now. Harry’s arm is up, excitedly showing him all the different constellations on the clear night sky. Louis suspects some of them Harry just made up. If not all of them.

“When I was small, my sister and I would sneak out during the night, put blankets on our roof and search for them,” he explains. Louis hums softly, his eyes drooping. Harry turns to look at him. “Are you asleep?”

“Of course not,” Louis protests, sitting up abruptly trying to shake off the tiredness. “The Big Dipper and such.”

Harry laughs loudly, slapping his hand over his mouth. It was a little weird, and a lot cute. Out of all the scenarios that Louis considered might happen once he invites a complete stranger to his car, he never imagined “falling in love” was one of them.

Well, he’s not in love just yet.

But.

“You are totally asleep,” Harry laughs. “Oh, are we sleeping in the car tonight?”

“Yeah. Hopefully we don’t get attacked by a bear. Or a psycho with a chainsaw.” Louis says, sliding off the car slowly.

“I don’t think there are any bears here,” Harry says thoughtfully.

Louis stops and grins at him. “You’re not worried about chainsaws?”

“I got into a car with a random guy to get me across the country. What do you think?”

Louis shrugs. “That you were desperate for a ride? Also, I assured you I am not a murderer.”

Harry beams at him. “Yeah.”

“I’m going to sleep,” Louis says, shaking his head, “I’m taking the backseat.”

“Oi, what?” Harry gasps, offended, but Louis’s already settled, closing his eyes with a smug grin on his face. Harry huffs and gets into the front.

/////

They call someone to help with the car the next day. It will probably take a while, and while Harry insists on staying there and waiting for the mechanic, Louis is bored to death so they go for a walk.

And as much as Louis enjoyed their dynamic before – Louis talks, Harry looks out of the window, or asks questions – he is absolutely delighted every time Harry opens his mouth to tell him something, unprompted.

“My mommy really hated hot weather, so we never went south a lot. Although, Chicago does get pretty hot, so I don’t really know what that was about,” Harry’s saying, and Louis is watching the side of his face. His stories aren’t very exciting – then again, you can’t compete with Louis’ great storytelling skills – but Louis thinks it’s very endearing.

“I travel a lot,” Louis says, “actually, it’s all I do.”

Harry looks at him. “You don’t have a job?”

Louis shrugs. “I write some music sometimes. Or pick up random small jobs along the way. It can be quite fun.”

“Sounds cool. How old even are you?” Harry asks, and Louis chuckles.

“Twenty six. And a half. I’m slowly dying,” he sighs.

Harry giggles. “Aren’t we all?”

“Well how old are  _ you _ , Curls?” Louis has stopped blaming Harry’s flushed face on the heat a while ago. It flatters him.

“Twenty four,” Harry says, looking down, “I feel like a child sometimes.”

“You don’t seem like a child to me,” Louis says with a frown. He wants to know what is going through the other boy’s head.

Harry chuckles bitterly. “Yeah, well.”

Louis tilts his head to the side. “Well?”

“I mean, just look at me,” Harry frowns, “I just wanted to go on a road trip with some friends. And now I’m here, on my way back, because –” he doesn’t finish the sentence.

“You were on your way to Castro, right?” Louis asks, gently. Harry nods.

“Because… you’re gay?” Harry hesitates a little, then nods again.

“But you ended up not going, because…?” Louis prompts, just to see if Harry’s willing to tell him.

Harry sighs, still just looking down on his hands, fingers tangled together. “My mom found out I… well, I basically ran away, you know? So she… called me, and wanted me to get back right away.”

“But… Why can’t you do whatever you want? I mean. You’re an adult?”

Harry sniffles gently, rubbing his nose with his finger. “Yeah, that’s... Yeah. She’s a little controlling, um, you know.”

“What about your friends?”

“My friends,” Harry scoffs a little. Louis raises an eyebrow. “They weren’t really. Friends. I thought they were, but then they just left. They have most of the things I packed, still in the car. And now I have to go home, and go meet my family and tell them about it and do a boring job and be  _ straight _ and alone, like before, it just – it just all kinda sucks. I feel so stupid.”

Louis is a little shocked by the amount of information Harry shared. Harry is looking to the side, and he looks so embarrassed, Louis is a little devastated. He wishes he knew how to make him feel better.

“You’re not stupid. Sometimes running away can be… the best thing to do,” he says. Harry turns to give him a sad smile.

“I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“It can be, though. Look, you’re allowed to say ‘fuck this’ if you’re not happy. And I know it is difficult when it comes to family, but… it’s your life. Do whatever makes you happy.”

“Maybe they all just want me to be successful,” Harry says defensively.

“If you’re happy doing what you’re doing, no one can tell you you’re not successful,” Louis insists.

Harry stays quiet, and they keep walking in silence for a while. Louis thinks he might be mad at him, and that wasn’t his intention, to make Harry mad.

“We should,” Harry starts, gesturing to the direction they came from grumpily, “um, should go back to the car, probably.”

Louis nods turning around. The mechanic guy arrives just as they get back, giving the two of them a weird look. Harry is quiet in the backseat, while Louis is trying to stutter out an explanation after he’s asked what are they even doing there.

The guy works his magic, grunts the price and leaves as soon as the car is working again. Louis’s been kind of dreading the moment the whole time he was there, having to be alone with Harry now. He isn’t even sure if he can say anything right now.

He gets in the car, and Harry turns away from him, stubbornly staring at the window, like he used to before. Louis shouldn’t care that much, but he really prefers the way things were just now. Before this conversation.

“Um,” Louis says, gripping the steering wheel, “You know, this is a kind of a road trip, too.”

Harry doesn’t look at him, just makes a soft confused noise.

“You wanted to go on a road trip. Well, it will take us a while longer to get to Chicago, and there is a lot of things to see along the way. We can turn this into a road trip,” he explains. He can see a smile tugging on Harry’s lips.

“We should be near the Grand Canyon,” Louis adds.

Harry turns his eyes to him. “I’ve never been there.”

“Me neither,” Louis shrugs with a smile, “but I’d like to go.”

Harry bites his lip. “Me too.”

/////

“It’s very… orange. But beautiful!”

“Like babies!” Harry notes enthusiastically, looking into the canyon with blown eyes.

Louis turns to look at him incredulously. “Like- what?”

“It looks incredible!” Harry ignores his confusion completely, gushing over the bright rocks they’re standing on.

“It does,” Louis laughs, watching him fondly.

“Look over there!” he’s been saying that all day, and Louis – Louis keeps looking. The view is always breathtaking. Whether it’s a shiny rock, a normal rock, a plant, a funny looking cloud, or Harry’s side profile.

They’ve been walking around, Harry taking pictures and giggling, and damn, this boy really isn’t used to travelling.

“I like taking pictures a lot. My memory sucks, and I just love looking at them afterwards. It’s like a reminder that I’ve been somewhere. And stuff,” he explains at one point, snapping one of a very colourful bird.

“That’s beautiful, Harry,” Louis grins, making Harry roll his eyes and point the camera at him. Louis covers his face shyly. “Heeey.”

Harry laughs. “What? You’re pretty.”

“Yeah?” Louis looks at him, smiling.

“Yeah.”

“You know,” Louis says, stepping a little closer to Harry, “if the point of your road trip was being gay, you should know that…”

“Know what?” Harry whispers, a little breathless.

“You can be super gay even… outside of Castro,” Louis smirks.

“You think so?” Harry beams at him, dimples deep in his cheeks. Louis lifts his hand, gently touching Harry’s face, his thumb digging into the dimple.

“I’m positive,” Louis murmurs before Harry leans forward, pressing a soft kiss against Louis’ lips.

“You call that super gay?” Louis teases. They meet again, soft, and lovely, and new, and  _ super _ gay, and Harry whimpers against his mouth softly and runs his fingers through Louis’ hair, and  _ fuck _ , Louis  _ loves _ road trips.

“Should we,” Harry steps back a little, looking at Louis, his pupils wide, “maybe, go back? To our room?”

“Now  _ that _ would be gay,” Louis chuckles.

“Shut up, Louis,” Harry groans playfully, pulling them towards the car.

/////

Turns out, the bed closer to the door is softer, for some reason, although Louis could just be imagining it, because with Harry’s mouth on him, everything around him kind of feels like clouds. Harry’s hair is soft where Louis’ fingers tangle into it, and he is blissfully humming around him.

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis grunts pulling him off gently, and Harry eagerly gets on the bed next to him. Louis is kissing his cheeks, his hair, his nose, and forehead and jaw, and his lips, his lips, his lips.

“Louis,” Harry whimpers, and Louis will never get tired of the way Harry says his name. Says, whimpers, whispers, shouts. He never wants to hear his name differently again than from Harry’s lips.

Louis rolls them around, holding himself above Harry, propped up on his elbows. Their noses rub together, they are breathing the same air. Louis straddles Harry’s legs and sits back. Harry looked cute, in his jeans and a big shirt, but right now, completely naked and flushed under Louis, he looks almost indescribable. Body of a god, face of a cherub. All sweaty curls, rosy cheeks and bitten lips, blush travelling down his chest. Hard and wet and desperate.

“All the photos you take,” Louis gasps, his hands travelling down Harry’s chest, grazing his nipples, drinking in Harry’s reactions, “have absolutely nothing on the sight that’s in front of me right now.”

Harry whines, a high sound that resonates in Louis’ ears. His hands are wandering from Louis’ shoulders down his arms, grabbing his hips. “Come on, wanna?” 

There’s a cherry scented lube in one of the drawers by the bed. Louis scrunches his nose a little, but it’s all they have, so he works with it. He preps Harry slowly, the boy falling apart, melting under his hands, too distracted to keep himself quiet. Louis spares a quick thought for the people in the rooms next to them, but forgets them immediately, relishing in the sounds.

Harry’s backpack, although half empty, has a nice stock of condoms in one of the pockets, and Louis smirks at him playfully. “You were really prepared for the trip, huh?”

“Louuuu,” Harry flops down on his stomach, whining.

“Well, better for me, eh?”

“I hate you,” his voice is muffled by the pillow.

Louis gets back on the bed, kissing down Harry’s back while trying to blindly get the condom out. Harry’s hips are making slow circles against the mattress, and Louis has to hold him down.

Well, he guesses he doesn’t  _ have _ to, but he likes the way it makes Harry moan.

The night is sweet and gentle, the slow drag of their skin together in contrast with their quick breaths, the quiet room filled with each groan and moan and  _ Louis _ and  _ Harry _ , and it’s better than San Francisco, better than stargazing in the middle of the road on the roof of a broken car, better than staring at the back of a curly head of a pretty stranger, it’s careful and lovely and  _ so _ good.

/////

They don’t really mention it. Except for when they wake up, curled around each other. Except for when Harry thanks him for a coffee with a kiss, and when they hold hands while sightseeing, and when they stop paying for two seperate beds in motels.

Except for when Harry walks out of the bathroom with no clothes on, and borrows Louis’ jacket when he’s cold.

And Louis doesn’t mind. It’s the loveliest trip he’s ever been on. He likes waking up with a face full of curls and he likes shivering, if it means Harry will wrap himself in his hoodie to stay warm.

Harry keeps taking pictures, but they’re not of birds and cacti and sunshine, and water and a pretty gate. They’re of Louis. Louis and sunshine, Louis next to a very fluffy dog, Louis in front of a fancy building, Louis next to Harry, kissing his cheeks, Harry’s dimples on display. Blurry pictures of them running around, dancing ridiculously, making out.

The rest of the trip is filled with Louis playing the guitar, Harry singing. Harry sitting in the open window of the moving car, laughing, while trying to take a quick photo of a tree they’re passing by. Nights spent curled up together in the backseat, uncomfortable, but close together, whispering secrets into each other’s mouth; nights spent curled up together in a hotel bed, talking about the past and the present and the future. Things they want to see and places they want to visit next. Kisses, laughter, music, stars.

State to state, city to city, always new adventures and always a constant  _ Harry and Louis _ .

When they arrive in Illinois, the change in the mood is like a slap in the face. Harry lets go of his hand as soon as they cross the borders, like he’s scared someone will come to scold him for it. He gets quiet, and Louis feels like back in the beginning, gripping the steering wheel quietly and staring ahead, head full of thoughts. The sun hides behind the clouds, and Louis wants to scoff, because  _ Yeah. I feel you. _

Harry just clutches the backpack – now filled with various souvenirs and funny shirts, shiny stones and stolen plants – to his chest and he keeps fidgeting. Louis wants to put his hand on Harry’s thigh, and squeeze, or just lock the doors and turn the car around and take him the other way, he wants to look at him and say “If you stay with me, I’ll take you to Castro. We could stay there for  _ weeks _ , if you’d like.”

But he doesn’t.

And they get to Chicago.

Louis hates Chicago.

“I, um,” Harry says, when they stop at a gas station. “I should, uh, go home. They’ll be probably super mad at me.”

Louis closes his eyes. “You wanna go? After everything? You really want to go back there?”

“What am I supposed to do, Louis?” Harry sighs, and Louis knows he hates these conversations, but.

“I don’t know,  _ not _ go? Stay with me? Travel? Start selling your photos? Anything?”

“We can’t all have the freedom you do, Louis. Some of us have responsibilities, and… and –”

“ _ Fuck _ responsibilities, Harry. Is everything that’s happened nothing to you? You know you hate it here!”  _ Please don’t go, please don’t go. Don’t get out of the car. _

And for God’s sake. Harry’s just a random guy. He’s known him for what, two weeks? Somehow it feels like Harry stepping out of his car right now would be the worst thing that could happen.

There are tears in Harry’s eyes, and Louis hates, hates,  _ hates _ Chicago, and he hates gas stations too. “I need,” Harry sniffles, “I need to go, I’m sorry.”

As Louis starts the car, he thanks God that he won’t see the guy behind the counter who just watched him bawl in his car for twenty minutes ever again.

/////

Louis drives a little aggressively, cursing at all the drivers who clearly don’t know how to drive, and all the redlights that stop him from getting away as quickly as possible. He can’t really tell if he’s sad or angry, or a combination of both, but he doesn’t like the feeling.

He needs to set his hatred for gas stations aside, because by the time he’s in Minnesota, he needs more gas, and he’s falling asleep behind the wheel. There is a lovely looking little b&b nearby, and he books a room. For one person. Ugh.

He falls asleep, grumpy, lonely and cold.

He wakes up, grumpy, lonely and cold.

He groans, burying his head in the pillow, letting out a frustrated scream into it. He gets dressed, realising that one of his hoodies stayed tightly tied around Harry’s waist when he left. He grabs his things and walks out to the parking lot. He throws his bag in the backseat, and gets in the car, turning the key. The engine starts, and Louis looks into the rear view mirror, about to move, except someone is standing there.

Behind the car.

Louis presses down on the car horn, irritated, but gentle. The person jumps a little, but doesn’t move out of the way. 

“Come on, what the fuck,” Louis grumbles under his breath, opening the door harshly and getting out, “Hey, mate, I would appreciate it if you’d move out of the fucking way, I’m trying to – “

Harry’s looking at him silently, his camera hanging around his neck, his backpack replaced with a vintage looking suitcase, his lip caught in between his teeth.

“What?” Louis can’t believe his eyes. He thinks he might be hallucinating, maybe he’s dehydrated or something…

“I, um,” That’s Harry’s voice, deep and slow, and what the hell is he doing here? How did he get here? “I need a ride.”

Louis’s gaping at him, not sure what to say, not sure if he’s euphoric or annoyed, if he wants to kiss him or punch him in the face. “Where?” he asks.

Harry shrugs, tone hopeful. “Wherever this car’s going?”

“How did you get here?” Louis asks, a little coldly.

“Wasn’t easy.” Louis arches his eyebrow. Harry shrugs again. “Some buses, some cars, I managed.”

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“I, uh, didn’t,” Harry starts, and he finally looks at least a bit sheepish, “I mean… I knew where you wanted to go next, and then I kind of counted how soon you’ll need to stop before you run out of gas and then I just figured I’d take a chance…”

“You came looking for me?”

“I mean, yeah. Figured that now that I quit my job, I can become a professional Louis stalker,” he grins.

Louis is kind of dumbfounded. “I- I thought you wanted to go home?”

Harry steps closer to him, his hands hovering over Louis’ hips and Louis might be a little angry at him, but he also really wants Harry to grab him. “Stupid. I think…”

“You think?”

“You might just be the most ‘home’ I’ve ever been,” Harry admits, blushing.

“That’s right sappy, even for you,” Louis teases, warming up a little.

“I’ve been gone too long from you,” Harry whispers.

“It’s been like… a bit over one day,” Louis points out.

“I get attached easily,” Harry grins, and Louis laughs quietly.

“I don’t mind.”

They’re standing there, and Louis is thinking about how he manages to embarrass himself in front of all the gas station workers, and soon he won’t have a place where he can peacefully fill the tank anymore. But he just really wants to kiss Harry.

“So, where are we going?” Harry says as he pulls away, throwing his suitcase in the trunk, running away from Louis’ hands pinching his sides with a squeal.

“Castro?” Louis asks softly, getting in the car.

“Sounds perfect,” Harry says over the sound of the engine, kissing his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can check out the moodboard or reblog [here](https://peggyschuylerbasically.tumblr.com/post/645019007001460736/canyon-moon) :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> You can come hang out on [tumblr](https://peggyschuylerbasically.tumblr.com/)


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